


Two of Us

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: There’s never a dull moment when it comes to identical twins April and Anna, who’ve done everything together since the day they were born. From bassinets to bras, they’ve shared it all.Now, they attend the same college. April’s boyfriend, Jackson, is just as close to the Kepner family as any other member. (Some would argue even closer than the oldest Kepner sister, Audrey). The family is tight-knit, but nothing compares to April and Anna’s bond.What happens when that bond is questioned? April thought she knew everything about her sister. That’s what being a twin means.Doesn’t it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this is my newest MC!! I won't have a strict uploading schedule - I have a lot of other things going on - but this idea would not leave me alone. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review!

**APRIL**

The fact that I’m an identical twin is typically the first and sometimes the only thing that people notice about me. 

Me and Anna aren’t the type of twins who were forced to embrace our identicalness as kids and therefore resented it once we got older. Our mom was definitely obsessed with dressing us the same (I’m still convinced she mixed us up as infants and we’ve been living our entire lives with the wrong identity) but we never hated it. We loved it. In elementary school, our favorite hobby was confusing people until Anna got glasses. After that, we’d still trick them, but her version had to be pretty spotty to do it. 

She’s my sister, but with an upgrade. One who almost has an exact copy of my DNA. We always used to say that meant if one of us commits murder, the other one would take the fall until we figured out what to do. I’m not sure why we thought we’d eventually drift into a life of crime. Maybe it seemed inevitable with how mischievous we were as kids. 

We used to call each other ‘clones.’ When she wanted to get under my skin, she’d say I was created to use as spare parts for her, just in case she got sick and needed them. That would always make me cry, but crack our older sister, Audrey, up. I think Anna said it for the first time when we were seven. It’s a pretty odd thing for a seven-year-old to say, but she’s always been smarter than me. I had no clue what it meant at the time, but I knew I didn’t like it and that’s all that mattered. I also knew that Audrey was laughing  _ with _ her and  _ at _ me, which is still usually the case. And I still hate it. 

It’s hard for Anna and I to be physically apart. It’s possible, we’re not that weird, but neither of us particularly like it. So, we knew by middle school that we’d end up at the same college - and that we did. We go to the University of Maine, one state away from our hometown of Salem, Massachusetts (yes, _ that _ Salem), while Audrey is off flaunting how smart she thinks she is at Cornell. 

We’re in the middle of our sophomore year, me and Anna, and packing up to go home for winter break. We still live on campus but not in a typical dorm - we share a room, but there’s a small kitchen and living room attached to make it feel like something of a tiny apartment. At least, it gives us a little extra space. And that comes in handy, because my boyfriend, Jackson, is over here more than he’s not. And not only does he usually eat us out of house and home, he takes up a lot more room than he thinks he does. He’s tall, lanky, and muscular; always sprawled out over some piece of furniture. I’ve never known a single person more relaxed than he is. About everything. 

“Anna, will you pack for me?” he asks, sitting on the floor in the bedroom Anna and I share. 

Anna has her suitcase open on her bed, half of it already meticulously organized. The other half is empty as she stands in front of the closet, leafing through sweaters. She looks over her shoulder and gives Jackson a funny look, snorting before she says, “No way. Do it yourself, lazy.” 

“Babe, she called me lazy,” Jackson says, tipping his head up to look at me where I sit on the bed above him. He wraps his arms around my shins and I laugh, rolling my eyes. 

“You are lazy,” I say, bending forward to speak right into his ear. 

“Yeah, can’t even do your own hair,” Anna notes, raising her eyebrows as she brings a few sweaters to her bed.

“It’s not that I  _ can’t _ ,” Jackson says, patting my knees. “It’s that she does it better.”

Right now, I’m twisting his long curls and placing gel at both the roots and the tip, trying to give him the twist-out he asked for. I’m not sure how it’ll turn out - it’s only my third time doing it - but he insists I do it well. And I enjoy it. I love working with his hair whether it’s short or long, and he loves the feeling of my fingers on his scalp. It’s a win-win. Plus, he never complains that I’m too heavy-handed like Anna and Audrey do when I style them.

“Well, you’re a very good client,” I say, dipping three fingertips into the gel. “Except you don’t pay me.” 

“In money…” he says, and I nudge his side with my heel. 

“Sunny, don’t you think that you should get packing?” Anna asks, carefully placing a pair of shoes at the bottom of her bag. “Aud’s gonna be here to get us in an hour.” 

“Eh,” I say, separating a new section of Jackson’s hair with a wide-toothed comb. “I’ll be fine. I can just wear what you bring.” 

“No,” she says. “I’m packing  _ my _ clothes.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“I do,” she says. “I wanna wear my clothes. There won’t be enough if we’re both getting them dirty. Just pack your own bag.” 

I hold up my gel-covered hands after twisting another curl. “Kinda can’t,” I say. 

“So, pause him,” she says. 

“He’s art,” I say, going back to work. “You don’t pause art. Can you just pack for me, please? When you’re done? It doesn’t have to be anything special. Just what I usually wear. Please?” 

“Ugh,” she says, and from that syllable alone I know she’s given in. “You owe me.” 

“No,  _ you _ owe  _ me _ . I did your Socrates essay two weeks ago.”

“It was a one-pager.” 

“But I still did it, ‘cause you asked me to. So, this is fair.” 

“Oh, whatever,” she says, pulling my suitcase down from a shelf in the closet. It’s the same as her purple one, but pink. 

I lean forward, fingers still meticulously working on Jackson’s hair. “I always get what I want,” I say with a smile. 

“Just gonna end up wearing my clothes anyway,” Anna mumbles, taking a few of my shirts off their hangers. 

“Maybe you should just gain a ton of weight so I can’t,” I say.

“Maybe _ you _ should,” she says, shooting me a look.

“Valid point,” I say. “But it would kinda defeat the purpose, since I’m the one who wants to wear the clothes in the first place.” 

I get where she’s coming from. We share a lot of things, down to the dorm we live in. Down to the bedroom. Half the time, I can’t remember what belongs to me and what belongs to her, or which of us it belonged to originally. Our clothes, books, shoes… everything, mostly, blends together to create an inventory we both take from. I honestly don’t mind it, but Anna gets annoyed. I think her frustration stems from a stint in sixth grade where we tried to share the same boyfriend. Ben Wallace, who we both kissed (he and I shared ours under the bleachers and he and Anna behind the blue slide), but he broke up with us because he thought he was just dating her, and when he was with me, I acted crazy. He was a nerd, so was she, and I was too loud and liked to draw on his arms with pen. Last time I checked, that wasn’t a crime and still isn’t. Even now, I give Jackson little temporary tattoos and he doesn’t mind. But whether or not it was legal didn’t matter; Ben didn’t like the ‘April’ side of Anna and therefore told her she (we) was a dumb girl and he didn’t like kissing her (us) anyway. It sat with her for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if she still thinks about him. She holds onto things like that, emotions and the way certain situations make her feel. Her brain is a sponge for feelings. And in typical twin fashion, it’s one of the biggest reasons why I love her but it’s also one of her most annoying traits. 

A while later, after Jackson’s hair is twisted and air-drying and everyone’s suitcases are packed, Anna’s phone chimes with a text. “Aud’s here,” she says, standing up. “We should go down and meet her.” 

“Yep,” I say with a long sigh, putting my slides on. Jackson gets up from the floor and winds his arms around my waist, then lifts me up to get me out of the way. I laugh and swat him, saying, “Get your hands off me.” 

“Yeah, right,” he says, not bothering to tie his laces.

“You smell good,” I say. “I love that gel.” 

He ducks his head nearer to my nose and I squeal, then Anna grabs my arm to get my attention. “Please don’t start shit with Audrey,” she says. 

“What do you mean?” I say, eyebrows furrowed. Jackson slips behind me to grab his hoodie, then tosses Anna and me our respective coats. 

“Oh, come on,” she says. “Don’t play dumb. Don’t start a fight just because you’re bored.”

“I do not do that,” I say. “And I never start them. She says stuff that she knows will piss me off. And she says it for no reason! Just to make me mad.” 

“I just don’t wanna spend the whole ride to Salem tense,” she says. 

“She’s not wrong,” Jackson butts in, as his head pops through his sweatshirt. “It’s so awkward when you guys fight.”

“You should be used to it by now,” I say. He’s been around since middle school.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s pleasant,” he says. “Just be nice.” 

“Yeah,” Anna says. “Be nice.” 

“It would help if  _ she _ were nice first,” I grumble, zipping up before grabbing my suitcase. “And how come she only texted you? We have a group.” 

“I don’t know,” she says. 

“Since when do you guys even text individually?” I ask, growing more confused as we trek down the hall towards the elevator.

“I don’t know. We just do sometimes.” 

“What is there to even talk about?” 

“School,” Anna says.

“I guess,” I mutter, still mulling over the idea. I can’t imagine holding a conversation - even over text - with Audrey for more than a few minutes. She’s so bland and predictable. I don’t push the subject further, though. I plan on doing my best not to be argumentative towards my oldest sister in the car, if that’s what Jackson and Anna want. I’ll be on my best behavior - but that doesn’t mean Audrey will, which means I have to be ten times stronger than I am. Sometimes, she brings out the worst in me. For some reason, I always fall for it and let her. 

When we get down to the taxi lane, Audrey is waiting in her Honda CRV - the car she’s had literally forever - but something is different. There’s a guy in the passenger’s seat, a guy I’ve never seen before. “Who’s that?” Jackson asks.

“No idea,” I say, then nudge my sister. “You know?”

She shakes her head. “Uh-uh.” 

I open the back hatch and throw my suitcase in, then Jackson lifts both he and Anna’s inside. “Who’s the guy?” I ask, and Anna elbows me with wide eyes. I know that look. It means:  _ be nice _ . “You just didn’t tell us you were bringing someone. Now, we’re all gonna have to shove in the back seat.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Audrey says as we get in the back, spinning around just as the guy does. “This is Noah.” She makes quick eye contact with him. “My fiance.” 

“Wait, what?” Anna says, eyes wide. 

“You’re engaged?” I say. 

“Shit,” Jackson murmurs. 

“Why?” I say, cutting in. “You’re not even 25. We’ve never even met him. You didn’t even tell us you were dating anybody.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause we talk  _ so _ much,” Audrey snaps. 

“Apparently you and Banana do,” I say. “And you didn’t tell her.” 

“Well, I wasn’t ready to,” Audrey says, glancing between us both. “I knew you guys would freak.” 

“I’m not freaking,” Anna says. “But you can’t just  _ not _ tell us that you got engaged. Do Mom and Dad know?” 

“Yeah.”

“God,” I say. “Why? You never answered me.”

“It’s nice to meet you both, by the way,” Noah says, offering a smile. I give him a strange look in return. He puts me off. There’s something weird about him. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something.

“Yeah,” I say. 

“God, April, can you be civil?” Audrey says. “When are you gonna grow out of being a brat?” 

“Okay, me  _ not _ being a brat isn’t the issue right now. Why did you get engaged so freaking fast? What are you doing?” 

“This isn’t like you,” Anna adds. 

“Yeah, it’s really not.” 

“Maybe, if you guys would chill-” Jackson begins, but I cut him off. 

“There’s no chilling,” I say, planting a hand on his thigh. “She sprung this on us out of nowhere.” 

“We got engaged because we’re in love,” Audrey says, glancing at Noah.

I narrow my eyes. “Okay…” 

“Is there something wrong with that?” 

“Of course not,” Anna answers. “It’s just so… fast. What happened to Bradley?” 

“I told you,” Audrey says. “We broke up. He didn’t want kids like, ever, and that was it.”

“You guys were really cute together,” I note. 

“No, he was a jerk,” Audrey says. “And the whole kids thing was a deal-breaker.” 

“Wait,” Anna says. “Are you pregnant? Is that why…?” 

“Holy shit,” I say, then look to my twin. In the silence that follows, we both know she’s right. I look back to Audrey’s face to find her ashen. “You are. You are pregnant.” 

“Well,” she says, pressing her lips firmly together. “Getting engaged seemed like the right thing to do, given the circumstance.” 

“The circumstance!” Anna exclaims.

“That’s one way to put it,” I comment. 

“Well,” Audrey says again, clearly flustered. Jackson has gone mute beside me, probably mortified. “It happened. And we want to keep it. We love each other, and it feels like a good next step.” 

“Check, check, check,” I mutter. “Checking off the list. God, that could never be me.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” my oldest sister asks, catching a tone. “Why are you such a bitch?” 

“I’m not,” I say. “It’s just that… you’re so young. Mom and Dad let you go to Cornell while me and her had to go to UMaine. And you’re just gonna like… get pregnant and get engaged?” I shake my head. “I’m just saying, that would never be me.” 

“I should never have told you,” she says, facing forward. Instantly, Noah reaches for her hand, but both are on the wheel. He touches her knee instead, rubbing circles with his thumb. Audrey sniffles - I made her cry. This is one of the few times I hadn’t meant to; I was just stating how I feel. I could’ve been even more honest, too. Told her how stupid and short-sighted she’s being for throwing her college years at an Ivy League away. But I kept that in. That should count as progress. 

“Come on, Aud,” I say, monotone. “I mean, yeah… a baby is cool… I’m not trying to be mean, but like… now?” 

“Yes, now,” she says, shifting the car into gear. “I’m not changing my mind. So, maybe you could stop judging me. That would be great.” 

“Sunny,” Anna says through gritted teeth, elbowing me in the ribs. 

“Sorry,” I mumble back, shrugging. Then, I say it louder - to Audrey. “Sorry.” 

“Whatever.” 

The ride home is uncomfortable, to say the least. Three-and-a-half hours - two of which are completely silent, because my phone dies and both Jackson and Anna have fallen asleep. I do my best to join them, leaning my head on Jackson’s shoulder while curling against him, but sleep doesn’t come. I close my eyes and pretend, though, listening in on Audrey and Noah’s conversation. 

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Noah says quietly.

“Yes, she did,” Audrey responds. I still hear leftover tears in her voice. I feel bad, but not bad enough to patch this up. She has to know I’m right. After me and Anna found out we had to go to a school that we counted as second best, we knew it was because Audrey had gone first and chosen the most prestigious, expensive school she was accepted to. Our parents have always put a little more faith in her, at least academically; she was the one that was going to do great things. They had to give her the platform to get started. And now, she’s going to ruin it. It should have been me and Anna at the school we wanted, not her. Nothing is ever good enough for her. It’s always onto the next, where the grass is greener. “You don’t know her. She totally means it. She hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Noah says. 

He’s right. I don’t hate her. A strong distaste, maybe. But hate is a strong word, and I’m surprised she used it. I mean, I guess we do argue all the time and I avoid her like the plague because she’s a bore, but I don’t hate her. 

“You still feel good about it, right?” Audrey asks. 

“Of course, I do,” he says. “Don’t you?” 

“Yeah,” she says. “I think so. I wasn’t expecting them to celebrate or anything, but being happily surprised would’ve been nice.” 

“What about Anna?” 

Audrey makes a noncommittal sound. “She and Sunny share a brain. That’s how it’s always been. Guaranteed she feels the same way, she just has a filter.” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter what they think,” Noah says, and I hear him patting her leg. “All that matters is what we think.”

I roll my eyes behind my eyelids. This guy is a perfect match for Audrey. 

When we get home, there’s snow all over. There was snow in Maine, too, but it’s deeper here - it goes above my ankles when I step out of Audrey’s car. “I should’ve worn my boots,” I say, staring at the un-shoveled path to the front door. 

“I got you, baby,” Jackson says, coming up behind me to wind an arm around my waist. He picks me up easily, carrying me like a football to the porch while I laugh loudly. He grabs the suitcases and helps Anna through the snow, too, then Mom and Dad appear. 

“Everyone’s home!” Dad shouts, arms out wide. “Bring it in.” 

Me and Anna go first, wrapping our arms around him tightly as he kisses our heads. Mom pats our backs and gives us kisses on the cheek once we pull away, and we fall into a hug with her, too. “Aud brought a guy home,” I say. 

“I know,” she says. 

“You do?” Anna says. 

“She told us,” Mom says. “Why do you sound angry?” 

“It’s weird,” I say, leaning into her. 

“Be nice to your sister,” Dad says. “Audie! Come see your old man.”

Noah lingers on the porch steps as Mom gives Jackson a huge hug. “There’s nothing weird about it,” she says. “You always bring Jackson.” 

“That’s not even close to the same,” I say. “He’s like, part of the family.” 

“Well, Noah will be, too,” Anna says. “Soon.” 

“The more the merrier!” Mom says.

“Is Noah staying for Christmas?” I ask Audrey as we walk inside. 

“Is Jackson?” she volleys back. 

I take his arm protectively. “His mom travels. He always stays with us for the holidays.”

“If he gets to stay, there’s no reason Noah can’t.” 

“I never said he couldn’t,” I grumble, clutching my boyfriend’s arm tighter. “We’re gonna go upstairs.” 

“Don’t forget about the picture,” Anna tells me under her breath, so Mom and Dad won’t hear. 

“Oh, yeah,” I say. We have plans to remake a childhood picture - one where Anna, Audrey and I are in the tub as toddlers - to give to our parents for Christmas. “Yeah, just come get me when you’re ready.” 

When the door shuts to the guest room - where Jackson and I sleep when he stays over; Anna gets the room she and I used to share - I collapse on the bed in a huff. Jackson sits next to me and picks up my head to rest it on his thigh, smiling as he looks at me. “What’s up, drama queen,” he mutters, tracing one eyebrow with his pointer finger. 

“They stress me out so much,” I say. “We’ve been here for like, five minutes, and I already want to go back.”

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “You just have to get used to it again.” 

“Yeah, the constant water torture of Audrey’s voice,” I grumble. 

“Stop,” he says, his voice turning serious. “Let it go.”

“She annoys me. And either way, she already thinks I hate her.”

“Well, don’t you?” I shake my head no. “You make it seem like you do.” 

“Well, I don’t. But she’s a try-hard. And a know-it-all. Things always have to go her way and she always has to get the last word. It’s always been like that. Remember, in middle school? When you were over and playing in the treehouse with me and Banana and she started that huge fight? Dad didn’t let us up in the treehouse for the fricken rest of the summer.” 

He chuckles softly. “Pulling receipts from 6th grade. You’re reaching, babe.”

“But you know what I mean!” I say, laughing as I pull his face down to mine. “Come here. Let’s stop talking about my sister for one sec.” 

He presses his lips to mine in a sideways kiss, cradling my jaw as he does. “Mm,” he says, losing the sound in my mouth. 

“We don’t have time now,” I whisper, overlapping his other hand that’s found its way to my chest. Though my words tell him no, my fingers squeeze around his, encouraging him. 

“Promise me for later,” he says, swiping a thumb over my nipple, which is so insistent that it’s pressing through the fabric of my bra and shirt.

“Mmm… maybe,” I say, smirking.

“I read my horoscope today,” he says, buttering me up. I’m always reading stuff about his sign out loud - Libra sun, Aries moon, Scorpio rising - as he pretends to listen. 

“You did?” I say, between kisses.

“Yeah,” he says, sliding one hand down my stomach to slip inside the front of my pants. “It said tonight, I’m supposed to fuck you.” 

“Oh, shut up,” I say, trying not to laugh - and failing.

He cracks up, loud and boisterous. “Gullible ass,” he says, snapping the waistband of my panties underneath my jeans. “Did it lie, though? Tell me it was wrong. The second moon in Mars, take a left at the Little Dipper, then a U-Turn at Venus… or some shit… said I was gonna fuck you tonight. So, it’s gotta happen.” 

“Wrong.” 

He blows a raspberry on the side of my neck, making me shriek. Then, he says, “Lies.”

...

After dinner, when Mom and Dad are in the den watching TV, my sisters and I gather in the bathroom with the biggest tub. Jackson has his phone out, ready to take the picture, and we’re trying to fit our adult bodies in the same positions they had been in at two and four years old. 

“I haven’t worn this swimsuit since 8th grade,” I say, plucking at the material. It’s purple and faded on the butt. Luckily, that part won’t be photographed.

“I have a bikini somewhere,” Anna says, equally as uncomfortable. Her bathing suit is the same as mine, but blue. 

“Toddlers don’t wear bikinis,” Audrey says, in a one-piece that fits her perfectly fine that I’m sure she brought with her. It’s black; the plainest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Mine and Anna’s are from Land’s End, but we were 13 when Mom forced us into them. Audrey bought hers willingly at 24, probably from the same place. There’s a difference. 

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not a toddler anymore,” I say, then cover my chest with my hands. “I have boobs now, and-” 

“Heyo,” Jackson says. 

I shoot him a look. “And they’re currently being compressed.” 

“You’ll live,” Audrey says, already exasperated. 

“Where’s Noah?” Anna asks, trying to get her legs to fold under her. “He didn’t wanna watch this shit show go down?” 

“I told him he shouldn’t,” Audrey says.

“He should get an idea of what he’s in for,” I say, yanking my foot out from where it got stuck. But in the process, I end up kicking Audrey in the ribs. 

“Ow!” she exclaims, knocking into Anna as she recoils. 

“Hey!” Anna says, shoving Audrey away so she hits me. 

“Stop!” I say, shouldering her in return. 

“Guys, quit!” Jackson says. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Can we just take the picture?” Audrey says. 

“Should we put water in the tub?” I ask. 

“Oh my god, no,” Anna says, then laughs. 

“True. I’d be tempted to drown you,” I tell her. She flips me off. 

“Okay,” Jackson says, peering at the original photo that sits on the sink. “Aud, you’re like… smiling so big your eyes are closed. Super big, cheesy smile. Right at the camera. Anna, you’re sitting there looking stunned with your thumb in your mouth, staring at April. And April, you have both arms above your head, mouth wide open. I think you might be laughing.” 

“Probably,” I say. 

“Okay, let’s do it,” Audrey says. 

“Should I really put my thumb in my mouth?” Anna asks. 

“Yeah,” Jackson tells her. We try and pose, but Jackson looks at the picture he took with an unsure expression. “Uh…” he says. 

“What?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Let’s try again.” 

“I feel dumb,” I say.

“Well, right now… you look dumb,” he says. 

“Thanks a lot.” 

“Yeah, seriously,” Audrey says. “Mom and Dad will love it, no matter how idiotic we feel.” 

We try and pose again, but it’s still not good enough. We must take 100 pictures, but nothing is right. We’re all reaching our breaking point - this isn’t as fun as the internet made it seem. “Jackson!” Audrey says. “Just take one more and call it good.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to him,” he say, lowering my arms from the position they’ve been in for what feels like hours. 

“I’m sick of this,” she says.

“It was your idea.” 

“Guys, stop,” Anna says. 

“She’s bitching at my boyfriend,” I say.

“Audie, chill,” Anna says. 

“You always take her side,” Audrey says. 

“We’re twins, that’s how it works,” I snap.

“Yeah. I'm aware.” 

“God, you are so annoying!” I say. 

“Sunny, stop!” Anna says. 

“What did I do?” I say, letting my voice rise. 

“I’m sick of this,” Audrey says, moving to stand. “Just use a shot we already took. I’m done.”

“Aud, no,” I groan. “Jeez. Come on.” 

“Well, if you’re just gonna keep starting shit, no.” 

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. Just like always.” 

“I’ll stop. Just come back.” 

“No. I don’t want to.”

I give her a firm yank, and she ends up toppling back into the tub, successfully crushing both Anna and myself. At first, we all lie there stunned, but then - instead of getting angry - we all burst out laughing. Loud and raucous, I laugh with my sisters like I haven’t in forever. We can’t catch our breath, and whenever we all lock eyes, we just laugh harder. My stomach hurts and tears are streaming down my face, and soon Jackson can’t help but join in, too. 

“I got a great shot,” he says, wiping his eyes, doubled over as his shoulders shake. 

Then, Noah appears, looking confused as ever. “What in the world is going on?” he asks, and that only makes us spiral further. 

…

After the rest of the house is asleep, Jackson and I are in the guest bed, doing the one thing my mom and dad said we couldn’t. Dad already wasn’t crazy about the idea of us sharing a room, but Mom told him that was silly. We’ve been together for the better part of six years, and he has to know what we do by now. He said yes, he’s aware, but he doesn’t want it happening under his roof. I’m pretty sure all of us knew his words didn’t mean much, but we let him think they did. 

“Sunny,” Jackson says, using the shortened version of the nickname I’ve had since childhood - Sunflower. When Anna and I were 4, I grew quick - tall and skinny with a big head, like a sunflower - and stayed taller than her for a good while until she caught up. “I love you.” 

He’s sweaty, but it’s my favorite way to have him. My skin glides over his as I press myself close to his chest, feeling our hearts hammering in tandem as we come down. “I love you more,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his head. 

He kisses me hard, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I relish the way he tastes and the way he touches me. It’s my favorite thing in the world. “Not possible,” he says. 

“Yes, it is.” 

“No,” he says, weaving his fingers through my hair. “Also, turns out my horoscope was right.” 

“Debatable.” 

“I fucked you, did I not?” 

“More like  _ I _ fucked  _ you _ .” 

“I like that,” he says, chuckling. “Hey. While I was taking the picture of you three stooges, you know what I was remembering?” 

“Hmm.” 

“When Anna asked me out freshman year.” 

“Oh, god…” I say, hiding by pressing my face against his neck. “Don’t.” 

“Come on, it’s funny,” he says, and I hear his smile. 

“We were pathetic.”

What happened in freshman year was this: I realized that, Jackson, my best friend since the beginning of middle school, started to feel like more than that. I was seeing him differently. His voice was changing. He didn’t look like a chubby-cheeked little boy anymore. His fingers were long, his hands were big and knuckled, even his Adam’s apple was different. I was noticing so much about him. I was even  _ dreaming _ about him. When I told Anna about it, one night in the dark in our room, she told me that it was so totally obvious. I had a crush on him. We talked all night, only realizing how long we’d been at it when the sun came up. 

I couldn’t get him out of my head, no matter what I did. The thoughts distracted me from school, from my friends, and I started acting like a real freak around him. I wasn’t normal me anymore because he wasn’t normal him. I was sure there was no way he could feel the same, but I also felt like I’d die if I didn’t find out. I was too chicken, though. So, Anna volunteered to take off her glasses and pretend to be me when asking him out. It was the perfect plan. 

It was easily the most stressful day of my life. I waited outside the school in our normal place, expecting to see my twin come out celebrating. But instead, she was downtrodden and morose. He said no. 

I was heartbroken. I didn’t know what to do. I had lost my best friend and my crush in one fell swoop because of my stupid feelings. I avoided him like the plague, even actively running away and fleeing at one point, because of how embarrassed I felt. 

But then, a week later, he finally caught up with me outside the locker rooms after school let out. He took my hand and gave me the clumsiest kiss in the world - our noses bumped together as did our foreheads - but it was my first one. Probably the best first kiss I could’ve asked for. 

“Not pathetic,” he says. “I knew it was her and not you asking. You guys must have thought I was really stupid.” 

“No,” I say, laughing. “We just thought we were really sneaky.” 

“Well, you’re not,” he says, running his fingers up and down my back. “I could pick you out of a crowd of a thousand twins. ‘Cause you’re mine.” 

“I know,” I say warmly, meeting his eyes again. I smile sweetly, thumbs on the apples of his cheeks. 

Then, interrupting our moment, the door comes open and I hear Anna’s voice. “Sunny?” she says. “I need to talk to you.” Then, her eyes adjust to the darkness - she can see Jackson and I are lying in bed naked. “Oh,” she says, quickly backing up.

“Uh…” Jackson says, pulling my body closer to cover himself. 

“Sorry,” Anna stammers, sidestepping out of the room. “I… uh, it can wait.” 

The door closes again, and I giggle with Jackson’s arms firm around me. “I swear,” I tell him. “She’s gonna be a virgin forever.”


	2. Chapter 2

**APRIL**

When I wake up, Jackson’s body is radiating heat as it always is in the morning. He’s flat on his back, arms thrown above his head, serene and sound asleep. When I look at the clock, I see it’s past 9, and only moments later do I smell breakfast downstairs. After that, I hear the voices of my mom and sisters. Everyone’s awake but us. 

I lay a hand on his bare stomach. “Wake up,” I whisper, moving closer to kiss his cheek.

“Mmm,” he grunts, pushing his lips out. 

“You’re cute when you pout,” I tell him, giggling. I slip my hand up his chest to rest on the side of his neck, tracing his jaw with my thumb. “Open your eyes, baby doll.” 

He lifts one eyelid. “Don’t call me that,” he grouches. 

“It got you to open your eyes.” Instantly, he closes them again. “Jackson!” I say, pressing myself closer while wrapping my arms as tight as they’ll go. “Wake up. My family’s downstairs and they’re gonna give us shit. I know they will.” 

“As always.” 

“Well, we’re giving them material,” I whine, tracing the bridge of his nose. Then, I lift his eyebrow to try and get his eye to open, which makes him blink with surprise.

“Get your fingers away from my eyeball,” he says, fighting a smirk. 

“Wake. Up,” I say, jostling him. “I’m getting up.” I roll over and stand only to feel his arms lock around my middle to pull me back down. “Hey!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, settling me to sit on his stomach. “You’re staying right here.”

“I’m hungry,” I say, leaning forward to rest my forearms on his chest. I feel his morning wood, but choose to ignore it. If I do so much as tease him, we won’t make it downstairs for another 45 minutes. 

He runs his hands up my thighs. “I’ll eat you.” 

“That doesn’t solve  _ my _ hunger.” 

“You can eat me after.”

I laugh a little, chin to chest. “You’re so nasty,” I say, then dismount to stand up once more. “Come on. Get your clothes. I’m surprised Dad hasn’t knocked down this door yet.” 

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, then gets up to stretch his arms high above his head. As he does, I turn around and jab him playfully in the stomach, which makes him double over. “Hey! Ass,” he says, laughing. 

He tries to jab me in return, but I dart away before he can. “Too slow,” I say, taunting him. I pull on a pair of baggy sweatpants and a blue camisole, then throw my hair into a messy ponytail.

When I walk past him, he yanks on it. “Now who’s too slow?” he says, then sticks his tongue out, mouth wide open, to make an obnoxious sound. 

I shoulder his chest, but all he does is wrap me in a bear hug. “You’re  _ annoying _ !” I sing, opening the door to lead us out. He’s still in the process of putting on a shirt, but he’s much more clothed than he was a few minutes ago.

When we finally make it downstairs, everyone is in the kitchen - just like I thought. “There they are!” Mom says, turning around with a frying pan full of scrambled eggs. “I was just about to come get you both. Breakfast is almost ready.” 

“Morning,” I say, plopping down in the middle of Jackson and Anna. Audrey is next to Jackson with Noah beside her, Dad at the head of the table with Mom to his right. 

“‘Bout time,” Anna says, chomping on a piece of bacon. 

“Jackson was taking forever,” I say. 

“Wonder why you slept in so late,” Audrey says slyly. “Did you have too much fun last night?” 

“No,” I say, too quickly. 

“Yeah, okay. You know that bed is super creaky, right?” 

“Shut up, Audie.” 

“You shut up, Tapeworm.”

“Don’t call me that!” I say, letting my voice rise. “Stop.” 

There’s nothing,  _ nothing _ , I hate more than being called ‘Tapeworm’. Audrey made it up when we were kids, saying that the name ‘April’ sounded like ‘Tapeworm.’ Once I found out what a tapeworm was, I freaked. She always uses it when she wants to piss me off, and it always works.

“Sorry, Tapeworm,” she says. 

“Mom!” I say.

“Girls,” she warns, without turning around.

Audrey widens her eyes and bobbles her head back and forth, mouthing it. “Tapeworm.” 

“Dad!” I say. I know I sound about six years old, but I hate that she gets away with this shit while I can never get away with anything. 

“Audrey,” Dad says, his voice low and stern as he reads the paper. “Leave your sister alone.” 

“Tapeworm started it,” she says, then laughs. That tips me over the edge. I reach over to her arm that’s resting on the table and pinch a big section of it, taking her skin between the nails of my pointer finger and thumb and twisting. “Ow!” she shrieks, then lunges to knock my hand away.

I stand halfway up from my chair to retaliate, but Jackson forcefully keeps us away from each other. “Sit down,” he says, frowning. 

“She-!” 

“Let it go,” he says. 

“No!” I say. “F you, Audrey.” 

“Oooh,” she says. 

I reach over to smack her, but Jackson gets in my way yet again. Then, Mom arrives at the table with a bowl of fruit and sees what’s going on. “That’s enough!” she says, setting the bowl down with force. “You two need to start acting your age.” I narrow my eyes at Audrey, then shoot her a nasty look. “April Sophia, that means you,” Mom says. 

“Mom,” I say. “She was calling me Tapeworm.”

“Audrey Corrinne,” Mom says. “I mean it. Enough.” She walks behind Anna, who has a book open on the table, and kisses the top of her head. “At least I have one angel.” 

I scoff, glowering as I lower my head to rest on my forearms. “Well, at least I’m not pregnant.” 

The whole table freezes, though I’m not sure why. Since Mom and Dad knew about the engagement, I was sure they knew about the pregnancy, too. But by the way the air crackles and thickens, I can safely assume that’s not true. 

“Pregnant?” Mom says. “You’re pregnant?” 

I’ve dug a deep hole, but I won’t be the one falling into it. “No,” I say, then nod towards my oldest sister. “Audie is.” 

“Thanks a lot,” she says, already crying. She stands up and shoves her chair back, and it makes a grating noise against the hardwood. 

“Aud…?” Dad says, finally looking up from the paper. 

“I was waiting for the right time to tell you,” she says, voice wobbling. “So, this is just great. You ruin everything, Tapeworm.” And with that, she storms off - stomping the entire path to her room, where the door slams shut. A stagnant, silent moment passes before Noah gets up and follows her, then everyone left at the table simply stares at each other. 

“Oops,” I say softly. Anna looks at me pointedly. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” I say, but even I know how thin that excuse sounds. Still though, I didn’t. 

“Pregnant, huh,” Dad says.

“Is that why they got engaged?” Mom asks. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

I decide to keep quiet. I’ve done enough damage. I probably shouldn’t open my mouth and give myself the opportunity to do any more. “I think she wanted to,” Anna says, testing the waters. “I think she was waiting. She was scared.”

Mom and Dad make eye contact, and they both sigh. Jackson is stiff beside me, frustrated, probably. He always gets tense when me and my sisters fight. He’s not used to it; he’s an only child with no cousins. “She’s being dramatic,” I mutter. “Like she always is.”

“Well,” Mom says, sitting finally.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Anna offers. 

“No,” Dad says. “Sunny needs to.” 

“What?” I say, lifting my head quickly. “No.” 

“Yes,” Dad says. “You need to apologize. She’s your sister.”

“Yeah maybe, but she hates me,” I say. 

“She does not,” Mom says. “Daddy’s right. You need to go say you’re sorry and tell her to come back to the table. Both she and Noah. We can talk about this as a family. No one’s in trouble. But you will be, if you don’t go make amends.” 

“Mom.”

“April, honey, are you 2, or 21?” she says. “Go apologize to your sister.”

“She won’t hear it from me,” I say. “She probably won’t even let me in.” 

“Just try,” Jackson says, his hand grazing my shoulder. 

I turn and make eye contact with him, then deflate. I know they’re all right, but sometimes he’s the only one who can make me see sense. “Fine,” I say, then get up. “But if I’m not back in 10 minutes, call the police.”

I trudge down the hallway towards Audrey’s room, and pause outside the door once I get there. I hear she and Noah talking in muffled tones, but I decide to take the high road and not bother to try and listen to what they’re saying. Apologizing to her isn’t my favorite thing in the world, especially when  _ I _ was the one provoked, but it was pretty shitty of me to out her secret in front of everyone. It wasn’t on purpose, but that doesn’t make it less shitty. 

So, I raise my fist and knock on the door softly, just twice. “Aud,” I say, leaning in. “It’s me.” 

“Anna?” she calls. 

“No,” I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I know Anna and I are twins, but she’s lived with us for over twenty years. You’d think she’d learn to differentiate our voices by this point. “April.” 

“What do you want?” 

“Can I come in?” 

“No.” 

“Aud…” I sigh. “Please?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end where I can only assume she’s communicating with Noah either with her eyes or telepathically. With them, I honestly don’t know. “Fine,” she says, then the door opens a crack. 

When I walk in, Noah walks out. I shut the door after giving him a very awkward smile. “So… yeah,” I say, sitting down on her bed. Being in her room is like in the movies, where a kid goes home to find their childhood completely untouched. But instead of Mom and Dad’s doing, it’s hers. She pleaded with them - begged, if I remember right - to keep her room exactly how it had been in high school. Cornflower blue walls, white shelves lined with trophies. A fluffy white comforter with a framed, signed poster of Faith Hill on the wall next to her bed - Audrey met her when she was 11. If I opened the drawers, I would see worn Levi’s from decades ago, barely frayed at the hems. Unlike me and Anna, who wore our clothes to the bones as kids, Audrey was so gentle with hers. She hated getting dirty. For us, the day wasn’t complete without a layer of grime beneath our fingernails. 

“Yeah,” she says, capping her hands on her knees. Though it’s not yet 10am, she looks as if she was cut straight from an Ann Taylor Loft catalogue. Pressed chino pants, salmon blouse, hair pinned half back with a silver barrette. Studying her outfit, I can’t help but wonder how we’re related. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, without putting it off. “I honestly had no idea that Mom and Dad didn’t know. I swear. I wouldn’t have said it if I knew you were waiting.”

She looks at me from the corner of her eyes, then shrugs. “It felt purposeful,” she says. 

“Well, it wasn’t,” I say. “They knew that you guys were engaged, so I thought they knew about this, too. Obviously, they didn’t.”

“I wanted to tell them in a special way,” she says. “But you just threw it out there like an insult.”

“I said I’m sorry, Audie,” I snap, though I hadn’t wanted to let my temper rise. “I don’t know what else you want. I’d take it back if I could.” 

“Yeah,” she says, shoulders deflating. “I know.”

“Seriously, I would.” 

“Thanks.” 

“So…” I say, inhaling deeply before gravitating towards the door. “Mom and Dad want you to come back out.” 

“Are they mad?” 

“No,” I say. “They just wanna talk. You ran away before they could say anything. So, you should come back.” I turn the knob and open the door, stepping halfway out before turning back. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah. In a second,” she says. I linger, waiting for her to move, but she doesn’t. “I’ll meet you out there, April.”

“Okay,” I say. “We’re fine, though, right? You’re not mad?” 

She gives me a look I can’t interpret. But with Audrey, it’s rare I can ever interpret anything. “We’re fine,” she says. 

…

“Well, I apologized for my big mouth. But she didn’t apologize for calling me that awful name,” I say from the windowsill in the guest bedroom. I have a canvas in front of me, mixing pink and yellow together for a sunset vista - a view from Sand Beach, which is mine and Anna’s favorite place to go back at school. It’s a bit of a drive from campus, but worth it. No matter the season. I’m painting the scene from a picture Anna took last summer, the day before we came back for break. We had the best day, staying until sunset and eating nothing but ice cream. We both got sunburnt beyond belief, but we didn’t care. I’m going to give the painting to her tomorrow for Christmas, which means I have to finish fast. 

“Still though,” Jackson says from the bed, where he sits eating pretzels. “You apologized, and that was big of you."

“How come I always have to be the bigger person?” I ask, frowning as I go over the sand with more beige. “How come she never has to feel bad for the shit she pulls? She never gets in trouble. Literally, Mom and Dad know how much I hate being called that. Yet I was still the bad guy.” 

“Well, you did out her pregnancy.” 

“Okay, yeah,” I say, dipping my paintbrush into a cup of water. “Yeah. And I said I was sorry for that.” 

“You know, now that I think of it, Sand Beach isn’t a very creative name for a beach,” he says.

“You’re changing the subject,” I say, pointing a new paintbrush at him. 

“I don’t know what else there is to say, baby,” he says, coming over to join me at the window. He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my shoulder, watching me as a I work - which he always loves to do. “What do you wanna hear? That you’re the best and she’s the worst? You’re always right and she’s always wrong?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, there you go.”

I dip my brush into the red, then dot the tip of his nose with it. “Clown,” I say, then bump him with my hip.

He rubs his nose on my arm, so the paint transfers to me. “You get so grouchy around Audrey,” he says, eyes steady. “I miss your laugh. I don’t think you’ve smiled all day, baby boo.” I flash him a very fake, forced grin. “Awful,” he says, smirking. “I’m gonna have nightmares about that.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Give me a real one,” he says. “Please.”

“No.” 

“Baby.” 

“No.” 

“Fine, I’ll make you then,” he says, then digs his fingers into my waist - which makes me scream with laughter. “Ha! Got one,” he says triumphantly. 

“Cheater,” I say, then nudge him away. “Okay, stop bothering me. I’m trying to paint.” 

“You love me,” he says, comfortably resting his arms around my waist as I blend the colors for the water. “A lot.” 

I steal a glance at him, then narrow my eyes. When I look back to the painting, I say, “A little.” 

…

“We are not skipping a year of our tradition just ‘cause you and Audie are in a stupid fight,” Anna says that night. We’re in her room, changing into pajamas. I’m already in mine - a camisole and Jackson’s boxers - waiting on her bed. She took ten minutes to pick out a set and ended up choosing a baby blue pair. I have no idea where she got them; if they were from Mom and Dad, I inevitably would’ve gotten them too, but in a different color. 

“It’s not stupid,” I say. “And technically, we’re not fighting anymore. I don’t think.”

“You don’t think?” 

“She was still weird to me when I left.”

Anna sighs. “You’re not supposed to leave things weird,” she says. 

“Well, with her, it’s hard!” I say, letting my palms fall to hit the mattress. Even though my twin bed is on the opposite wall, I’m still sitting on hers. I’ve always liked hers better. 

“I seriously don’t get why you guys fight so much,” Anna says. “Me and you never fight.” 

I flop onto my back. “That’s because we share a brain,” I say. “She’s always so… code-y with me.” 

“Cody?” 

I laugh a one-syllabled laugh. “No, like… coded. Everything always has to mean something else. Like is she really fine, or is she just saying she’s fine?”

“Doesn’t matter either way,” Anna says, pulling me up by the wrist. “Neither of you are skipping out on tonight.” 

It’s been our Christmas Eve tradition to sleep in the same bed and watch a Christmas movie for as long as I can remember. Probably since Anna and I were old enough to sleep outside of cribs. No matter what, we make sure we’re home to do it every year. This year is the first that I haven’t been crazy about the idea, though it’s definitely not the first December 24th where Audrey and I have been fighting. 

“She doesn’t wanna do it, either?” I ask. 

“Probably not, but I don’t care,” Anna says. “We’re not breaking our tradition. We’re gonna do it ‘til we’re old ladies and need help in and out of bed, like we always said.” 

“Well, then I hope I die first.” 

She turns around and looks me hard in the eyes. “Don’t say shit like that,” she says. “It’s not funny.” 

My cheeks heat up and turn red. I don’t like making Anna upset - especially if I’m not doing it to purposely annoy her. “Sorry,” I say.

“Just come on,” she says, nodding me along as she opens the door. “Tell Jackson goodnight and meet me downstairs.” 

“Fine,” I say, then sigh for effect. After Anna goes to collect Audrey, I pop my head into the guest bedroom to find Jackson sitting halfway up, shirtless, playing on his phone. “I’m going downstairs with my sisters,” I tell him. 

He pauses the game and looks up, asking, “Leaving me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Come kiss me, then.” I smirk to myself then walk over to the bed, leaning forward onto my palms as we meet in the middle for a kiss. “Be nice,” he reminds me. 

“I’m always nice.” 

“Yeah…” he says sarcastically, then looks back to his phone. “And don’t wet the bed, bedwetter.” 

“I forgot to pack your Pampers, so maybe you should be telling yourself that.” 

“I’ll make sure to bring my soggy sheets down to you,” he says, smiling while concentrating on his phone screen. “Quit stalling. Go be with your redheaded brethren.” 

“Sistren,” I say. 

“Uh-huh,” he says, getting pulled back into the game. “Love you, Sunny.” 

“Love you,” I say, then walk begrudgingly out of the guest bedroom and down the hall towards the basement steps. 

When I get down there, Audrey and Anna are already in the extra bed with the TV on. Anna is in the middle, thank god, and pulls back the covers for me on the left side. She pats the mattress and smiles, and Audrey attempts a grin, too. To try and join in the spirit, I get a running start and jump onto the bed, landing beside my twin with a heavy thump.

“Jackson’s all tucked in,” I say, getting comfortable. “How ‘bout Noah?” 

“Yep,” Audrey says. “He doesn’t really get what we’re doing, though. He’s an only child.” 

“Jackson, too,” I say. 

“We know,” Anna says, snorting. 

“Anyway,” I say, resting my arms above my head on the pillow. “What’re we watching?” 

We pick a different Christmas movie every year. Last year, it was  _ Christmas with the Kranks _ , the year before that, it was  _ The Year Without a Santa Claus _ and the classic  _ Rudolph _ . 

“I was thinking  _ Elf _ ,” Anna says. 

“Yes!” I say. “I haven’t seen that one in forever.” I sit up a little, propped by my elbow. “Aud, I’m gonna make that spaghetti for you tomorrow.” 

“And give me gestational diabetes right off the bat,” she says, and we all laugh. 

We turn on the movie, and I rest my head on Anna’s bony shoulder. This is how it’s always been, and how it’ll always be. Audrey laughs at the same parts she always laughs at, and we all get quiet during the sad parts. It’s predictable, but in a cute way. After I stop forcing myself to be mad at Audrey, I realize that Christmas wouldn’t be the same without this tradition with them. I have both my older sisters with me - one by two years and the other by two minutes - and I don’t want it any other way. 

Anna wraps one arm around my head and rests her fingers on my forehead, brushing hair out of my eyes as the movie’s final scenes play. Even though we have the exact same hair, she insists mine is better and touches it whenever I let her. Right now, I want her hand to stay. She claims that’s why she was always pulling my hair when we were toddlers, but I’m not so sure about that. 

When the movie ends, we watch the credits for a few minutes until Anna flicks the screen off. “Can we watch one more?” I ask. “A short one?” 

“I don’t know,” Anna says, and her voice is very close. I still haven’t moved my head. Something is different with her tone, though. She’s tentative; thinking about something.

“What is it?” I ask. 

“What do you mean?” Audrey says. “I’m tired, too. We don’t have to watch another one.” 

“No… something’s wrong,” I say, looking at Anna and not Audrey. “You okay?” She chews on her lower lip for a long time, not saying anything. By now, I’ve lifted my head to look in her eyes, but she won’t meet mine. I knew something was on her mind. “Banana,” I say seriously. 

“Well… there’s just something I wanna tell you guys,” she says. 

I narrow my eyes, then close them for a long moment. Haven’t we had enough news for one holiday, given by Audrey? I don’t know how much more I can take. And what could she possibly tell me that I don’t already know? We share everything. 

“What?” I say, and the word comes out sharper than I intended. 

Anna looks at me for a fleeting moment and something changes in her eyes. It’s too fast for me to decipher what, but it’s something. “It’s not really a big deal,” she says. I stay quiet. I can sense how interested Audrey is - she’s already figured out that I don’t know what Anna is about to say, either. And she loves it. 

“You can just say it,” I tell her.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out. Without looking at either of us, she lies down and folds her hands over her ribcage, saying, “I’ve been seeing a guy.” 

There’s a heavy, confused silence that follows. Then, Audrey pipes up with, “What do you mean, seeing a guy? Like, you’re dating someone?” 

Anna makes a small sound in her throat before saying, “Yeah.” 

Anna has never had a boyfriend before. To my knowledge, the only person she’s ever kissed is Ben Wallace from middle school. Boys aren’t a huge conversation point for us; I’ve been with Jackson since the dawn of time, and she’s so focused on school. That’s how it’s always been. I’ve never thought of her as someone who thinks about the opposite sex. 

“Wait,” I say. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Um… yeah,” she says. Suddenly, my face flames red. I’m glad there are no lights on so neither of them can see. “You never told me,” I say, and the words come out very quietly. 

“I need to know everything!” Audrey says, then she stops herself to address me. “Hold on. You didn’t know?” 

I clench my jaw and don’t respond. She doesn’t get to gloat about this. She’s always hated that me and Anna share everything - our twin-ness irks her; she’s jealous. And now, with this, we’re on the same playing field. I’ve never felt like this before, and I really, really don’t like it. 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Anna clarifies. 

“Why?” I ask, unable to help myself. “We tell each other everything.” 

“I know…” Anna says. “But… I just wasn’t sure what was gonna happen with him, and I wanted to figure it out on my own. When we figure out stuff together, it turns into a twin thing. And I wanted him to be my thing.” 

“Oh,” I say, because that’s all I’m capable of saying.

“What’s his name?” Audrey presses. 

“Wyatt,” Anna says, and her voice is warm. 

“How’d you guys meet?” 

“We’re in the same sociology class,” she says. “We got partnered up for the final project, so we worked together for like, five weeks. And I got to know him… and I really like him. He likes me, too.” 

“Well, of course he does,” Audrey says. “What’s not to like?” She glances at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t know, April.” 

“Yeah,” I say, avoiding Anna’s eyes. 

“How old is he?” Audrey asks. “Can we see a picture?” 

“I can look up his Facebook tomorrow,” Anna says. “And he’s 21, like me. I don’t know, he’s really sweet. He loves music, too, and he can sing. He plays in a band; I went to see them a couple times. They’re really good.” 

“You went to see them?” I ask. “Where was I?” 

“With Jackson, Sunny,” she says, and even though her voice is gentle, it still stings.

“You didn’t tell me,” I say, and I can’t wrap my mind around it. We tell each other everything - the big and small things. We talk about what sounds good for breakfast, what grade we got on a test, and what it means to be alive. We talk about childhood memories, political injustice, and cute dogs we’ve seen throughout the day. Everything. Yet she didn’t tell me something as important as this? 

“I know,” she says. “It wasn’t because I didn’t want you to know, I just wanted it to be my thing for a while. And I feel more comfortable with it now, which is why I’m telling you.” 

“At the same time as her,” I say, referencing Audrey. It comes out snotty, and I should have expected it to. Instantly, Audrey scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

“Even though I’m not her twin, I’m still her sister,” Audrey says. “We talk without you, you know. You don’t have to be involved in everything.” 

“Whatever,” I say, then sit up fully and swing my legs off the bed. 

“Wait, Sunny,” Anna says, touching my shoulder. I yank it away, though, out of her grasp. “Where are you going?” 

“My stomach hurts,” I say. “I’m gonna sleep in my own bed, I think.” 

“No, come on,” she says, trying again to pull me back. And again, I shake her off. I don’t want her touching me right now. I feel betrayed and blindsided. This came out of nowhere, and she just gave Audrey so much material to hold over my head. I would have never done this to her. Between us, she’s always the first to know things. Most of the time, before Jackson. “Don’t go.”

“It’s fine,” I say, standing. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.” 

“April.” 

“It’s whatever,” I say, crossing my arms tightly across my chest before leaving the room. I feel like I might cry, but I don’t want to do that in front of them. I need to go. “Night.” 

“Night…” Anna calls out, and the last thing I hear before ascending the stairs is the sound of her sighing. 

As I make my way back to the guest bedroom, my anger builds. I can’t put a finger on why I’m so mad; I know Anna has the right to keep things to herself. It’s not like I had to pry the secret out of her, she told me willingly. And what’s so bad about learning it at the same time as Audrey? For an outsider, maybe nothing. But for me, plenty.

When I open the door, Jackson is turned on his side and sleeping - he’s left half the bed empty for me, though. He always does. I crawl in behind him and wrap an arm around his waist, acting as the big spoon as I sometimes do. “Hmm?” he grunts, confused. “April?” 

“It’s fine, go back to sleep,” I say, tightening my arm as I rest my forehead in the middle of his shoulder blades.

“I thought you were with Anna and Audie,” he says. 

“I missed you,” I say. “I came back.” 

“Mmm,” he says, then turns around to face me. With his eyes still closed, he hugs me close and kisses my forehead, falling back to sleep as easily as he’d woken up. 

…

In the morning, Christmas morning, my mood still hasn’t dissipated. When I wake up, I stare at the unfinished painting across the room and decide that I’m not going to complete it. I’ll give it to Anna like it is right now, half-done and wanting. The beach is painted and only a tiny bit of the sunset. I had meant to fill in the rest this morning when I woke up, but now I don’t want to. So, I’m not going to. 

I get up and take it off the easel, then I hear Jackson’s voice. “Gonna go get your paints?” he asks sleepily, turning onto his back while rubbing his eyes. 

“No,” I say. 

“Huh?’ 

“I’m not finishing,” I say, setting it down by the door. 

“Why?” 

I shrug. “Don’t feel like it.” 

His eyebrows furrow. “But it’s for Anna,” he says. 

“Yeah.” I say. “And?” 

He sits up, clearly very confused. “Did something happen last night between you guys?” he asks. “Why’re you being a brat?” 

“I’m not,” I say, opening the door. “I just don’t feel like finishing it.”

“Sunny,” he says, deadpan. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Seriously.” 

I walk out to the living room with the painting in tow, where everyone is already sitting around the tree. Anna smiles when she sees me, but I don’t return the gesture. Instead, I thrust the painting her direction and say, “Sorry, it’s not done. I guess I just wanted it to be my thing for a while. But now I’m ready to share it with you, even though it sucks. Hope you like it. Merry Christmas.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW - vague mention of self-harm.

**APRIL**

At the breakfast table, everyone but me is involved in lively conversation. I sit between Anna and Jackson, in my usual spot, picking at my pancakes without much conviction. I’m not hungry; I’m pissed. I don’t want to be here at the table with the rest of my family, who are conveniently all in amazing moods. I can feel myself acting as the dark cloud, hovering off to the side, but I can’t stop. I don’t really want to. 

“Hey,” Jackson says, nudging me softly. “You okay?” 

All I give him is a shrug. I feel his eyes on me for a beat more, but then he returns to the exchange he was having with my dad. I glance up, taking in the scene, to find Anna watching me. Immediately, I direct my eyes back to my plate. By now, my pancakes are bloated with syrup and there’s no way I’m going to eat them.

“Remember that, April?” 

I look up to find my mom smiling. It’s clear they’d been rehashing something, something that I missed. “What?” I say, and there’s an edge in my voice. 

If Mom hears it, she doesn’t react. “We were just talking about that Christmas Anna asked for her two front teeth. That was the only thing she wanted. Do you remember that?” 

I shrug a little, eyes downcast again. I do remember, but I don’t feel like engaging. I feel like going back to the guest room and drowning out today. 

“I cried because I woke up without them still,” Anna adds, and I can tell the statement is directed towards me. I don’t look up, though. “Literally wouldn’t stop crying.” 

“But what did Sunny do?” Mom says jovially. “She walked to the gas station and bought a pack of Chiclets.” The white ones, the ones that look like teeth. It was the best thing I could think to do. I hated seeing Anna cry, even then. “Came back practically frozen.” 

“But she had my front teeth for me,” Anna says warmly. “Sunny. You remember?” 

“I guess,” I say. “But it was just gum.” 

“No, it was more than that,” Anna says. “I kept them forever.” 

“‘Til I accidentally chewed them,” Audrey pipes up, giggling. 

Of course she did. I knew that, but the reminder ignites the fire in my chest all over again. She ruins everything, on purpose or by accident, it doesn’t matter. She still ruins it. 

After breakfast is over and we move to exchange gifts, I’m still surrounded by the shell I crafted for myself. With my arms crossed, I sit on the floor with my back against the couch and watch my family give gifts to each other - this year, Mom was Jackson’s secret Santa and she bought him a cozy pair of slippers and a new coat, both of which he’ll get a lot of use out of. He’s so happy when he shows me, his smile lights up his whole face; I can’t help but let a little happiness in. 

“This is gonna keep me so warm,” he says, touching the lining. “Thanks, Karen.” 

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she says, lifting onto her knees to lean over to Jackson. She holds his face in her hands and gives him a big kiss on the forehead. “I love you.” 

He grins in her direction, doesn’t even wipe off the kiss. “Love you, too,” he says, and folds the coat carefully. “Thank you so much.” 

“It was nothing. I can’t have my boy freezing!” 

He smiles bashfully, looking down at his lap instead of into her eyes. My chest loosens a bit and exudes warmth, and I lean over to hold his arm with both of mine. I rest my head on his shoulder and give him a squeeze, aware of exactly how he’s feeling. Part of our family, which he is. There’s no doubting it. He has been for years, but he gets emotional about it around the holidays. 

“Okay, I have something for Sunny,” Anna says. My secret Santa had been her - who got the half-finished painting lurking in the corner. I had received my secret Santa gift from my dad - a beautiful scarf and a new pair of boots - so I thought the gift exchange was over. I look at my twin and she must read my expression, because she says, “It’s something extra. I got the idea and I couldn’t resist.” She hands me a wrapped rectangular box. “Here.” 

Without words, I begin to unwrap it. Everyone is watching me, but I concentrate on getting the paper off to reveal the jewelry box underneath - and I pry that open once I get to it. Inside, resting on a navy blue pillow, is a gold necklace with two interconnected gold rings, dainty and precious. 

“I have one, too,” Anna says, lowering the collar of her shirt to pull the pendant out. “See? It’s us.” 

I look at her face, eager for me to smile. I want to, but I’m not ready. I love the necklace, but I’m still wounded. “Thanks,” I say, then close the lid of the box. “It’s really pretty.” 

“You should put it on, baby,” Mom says.

“Later,” I tell her. 

“Well, then let me see it,” she says, extending an arm. I hand it over and she admires it after opening the lid, running a finger over the delicate gold chain. “It’s perfect,” she says, tracing the rings. “Connected. My twins.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Anna says. “Connected.”

“Yeah,” I say, without much conviction. 

“Sunny, will you put it on? I wanna take a picture,” Anna says, lifting her charm a few inches from her neck. 

Mom hands the box back and smiles, but I clamp it shut. “I don’t feel like it,” I say. 

Anna gives me a look, frustration mixed with defeat. “Why?” she asks. 

“Stop being an ass, Tapeworm,” Audrey cuts in. 

“Shut the fuck up,” I say. 

“April!” Mom exclaims. “What’s going on with you? It’s Christmas!” 

“Yeah, I know,” I say, getting up from the floor with the box in tow. 

“You’re acting like a child!” Audrey calls, and Anna stays silent. 

I shake my head, mostly to myself, and walk down the hall to the guest room. I hear the timbre of Jackson’s voice as he talks to my family, and his footsteps follow shortly after. The door opens just as I sit on the bed, and he shoots me a very accusatory, questioning look. “What is wrong with you today?” he says. “What happened last night that you’re so mad about?” 

So, he knows that much. He must have assumed, given the way I’d retreated from my sisters’ bed. “Nothing,” I say, turning onto my side, away from him. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

He sits on the bed near my feet. He pulls them onto his lap and holds my ankles, wrapping his big fingers easily around them. I always feel extra-small when I’m around him. “Baby, just tell me,” he says. “It’s obviously bothering you.”

I make a small, noncommittal sound in response. I’m fully aware that letting it fester won’t do me any good, but it’s what I want to do. Airing it out means fixing it, and I want to stay mad. I deserve to stay mad.

“Don’t just grunt,” he says. 

A small giggle escapes me, paired with a smile. “Stop,” I say weakly, rolling over to look at him. Then, I sit up with my hands braced behind me and let my shoulders hunch to my ears. 

“What,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes. His are warm, as usual. I can always find a home there. 

“Let’s not talk about them,” I say, maneuvering onto my hands and knees. I crawl onto his lap and rest my hands on his shoulders, as close as I can get. “Let’s talk about me and you.” 

“Yeah?” he says, gripping my sides. “What about me and you?”

“I don’t know,” I say, leaning closer. “Anything.” 

I kiss him, long and lasting, holding the sides of his head with both of my hands. I open my mouth against his and arch my back closer, breathing him in as I move. “Mmm,” he says, fingers spanning over my lower back. “This isn’t talking.” 

“Our bodies will do the talking,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. He kisses my jaw and I start to move my hips slowly, knowing exactly how to work him up. 

“I know there’s something on your mind, though,” he says, pressing his lips to my shoulder. I pull away for only a second, just long enough to get my shirt off, before directing him back to my skin. 

“I told you, it doesn’t matter,” I say, twisting my arms behind my back in an effort to get my bra off. 

“Yes, it does,” he says, opening his eyes fully into mine. 

“Jackson,” I say, clenching my jaw. “Come on… I wanna be with you. Can we just have sex?” 

“April…” 

“Just fuck me and help me forget about it,” I say, reaching between us to cup the bulge in his pants. 

“Sunny!” he says, jolting backwards. “Stop. Just… stop. I don’t wanna sleep with you when you’re being like this.” 

“I’m not being like anything,” I say, dismounting him to rest against the headboard. I cross my arms over my chest, still wearing only my bra, and openly pout. I know very well I’m being a brat. I just don’t know how to act any other way.

“Just tell me what’s wrong,” he says, laying a hand on my bare foot. I let it stay. 

I sigh and my head thunks against the headboard. “Fine!” I say. I throw my arms up before letting them fall to hit the mattress. “Anna has a boyfriend.”

For a long moment, Jackson stares at me with his eyes narrowed. He blinks a few times, then minutely shakes his head. “Okay…” he says, confused. 

“Okay?” I say, shrugging with emphasis. “She didn’t tell me. She’s had a boyfriend for a  _ while _ .” 

He blinks again, still not getting it. “Okay…” he says again. “But it’s not like you guys have to tell each other every time you breathe. She’s allowed to have certain things to herself, baby… you guys are 21, not 12.” 

“I don’t keep things from her,” I grumble. “I don’t.” 

“Oh, come on,” he says. “I’m sure you don’t tell her about our sex life, or anything. She’s allowed to have things she keeps to herself, too.” I meet his eyes for a second, then flit them away. “Wait…” he says. “ _ Do _ you tell her about that?” 

“Jackson, I tell her everything. She’s my twin. It’s like, in the contract.” 

His eyebrows furrow and it takes him a moment to process what I just said. “Good to know,” he says, mostly to himself. “Also, not good to know…” 

“That’s not the point,” I say. “I wouldn’t care that much if she was just keeping it from me. I wouldn’t get why, but… I guess I’d be fine. The bigger problem is that she told me at the same time she told Audrey, and now Audrey’s holding it over my head that she and Anna’s relationship is just as special as mine and Anna’s is.” 

Jackson sighs. “Well, they’re sisters, too.” 

“But they’re not twins,” I say firmly. “And Audrey’s already pissed me off enough as it is, then Anna went and made it worse. She had to know she was making it worse, and yet she still did it! It makes no sense, how she went about it. It was so damn selfish.” I let out a loud, flustered sigh. “So freaking selfish.” 

He chews the inside of his cheek for a while, watching me. “I don’t know if she’s the one being selfish,” he says. 

“What?” I snap. 

He raises his eyebrows. “She told you both something that was important to her. She wouldn’t have held onto it so long if she weren’t nervous to tell you. I’m sure it took a lot of guts. Then when she does tell you, you flip out. Give her a shitty ass Christmas gift, when she got you that awesome twin necklace. And now you’re giving her the cold shoulder. Imagine how she must feel.” 

“I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” I say. “No one’s on my side! I’m always the bad guy, no matter what.” I start to cry; the tears come hot and fast. “Audrey makes sure of that, and now she’s got you, too. And Anna. Fucking great.” 

“Sunny,” he says, keeping calm as always. “There aren’t any sides.” 

“There’s always sides,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I know how I sound. I get it. I sound like a brat because things didn’t go how I wanted them to. I can see that. But, like, can you see how  _ I _ feel? I got totally blindsided by someone who never blindsides me. She betrayed me. And it hurts.” I sniffle loudly and cover my eyes with my palms. “It really hurts, and no one cares.” 

“Baby,” Jackson says, and I feel his arm wind around my shoulders. “I care. You know I always care.” 

“But you think I’m wrong.”

“I think… that I get how you’re feeling. But it doesn’t help when you blow up and get mad. At anyone.” 

“I know. But I can’t help it when I’m actually mad and no one takes me seriously because they think I’m a drama queen.” 

He kisses the side of my head and I turn towards him, burrowing into his chest. He pulls me in closer, hugging me tight while rubbing the curve of my spine with one hand. “I think the only way this is gonna get resolved is if you guys talk,” he tells me. 

I shake my head stubbornly. “I don’t want to talk to her.” 

“Maybe not right now,” he says. “But eventually.” I shrug. “Think about it.” I shrug again. “Baby.” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

“You can’t go forever without talking to her, you know. You’d die.” 

“I could try.” 

“Stop,” he says, not finding my weak joke funny. 

“You just don’t get it,” I say, tipping my face to look at him. He wipes my damp cheeks with his fingertips, gently drying my tears. “It’s a twin thing. She’s the one person who’s never supposed to make me feel like shit.” 

“I thought that person was me.” 

I laugh a little, finally smiling. I give him a soft kiss on the chin and say, “You, too. And you’re way better at it.” I rest my head in the crook of his neck again, saying, “You’re always good to me. Even when I’m being a stank.” 

“A stank, huh,” he says. “That’s a new one. Is that how you’d describe how you’re currently acting?”

“No,” I say adamantly, but with a laugh in my voice. 

“Then how would you describe it?”

I think for a second, then say, “Currently, I’m right.”

…

The next night, our parents are out and I’ve been trying to hole up with Jackson in the guest room for as long as I can. But after he falls asleep and I get tired of staring at the same four walls, I’m forced to get out of bed and venture into the kitchen. 

It’s quiet at first, so I think I must be safe. But when I round the corner to find the light on, it only takes a few milliseconds to see Audrey and Anna sitting at the table with two mugs of tea between them. It’s not below me to turn and walk back in the direction I came, but Anna says my name before I can. 

“April,” she says, sounding surprised. “There you are. What’ve you been doing all day?” 

I pause, coming to terms with the fact that there’s no escaping now. I’m in the kitchen for good; at least, until I grab a snack and have a reason to leave. “Hanging out with Jackson,” I say. 

“We missed you,” Anna says. “You should’ve come out. We watched home movies. There was one of me and you where we were-” 

“Yeah, sorry I missed it,” I say, cutting her off. I can practically hear Jackson’s voice in my head telling me to stop while I’m ahead, but I’ve learned to ignore it by now. 

“Oh,” Anna says. She pauses for a moment before continuing. “I was hoping… I don’t know, that we could talk.” 

Grabbing a banana, I turn around and look between the both of them, pointedly saying, “We?”

Anna nods. “I want to talk to you about the other night.”

I scoff, shaking my head slightly. “I’m not talking to you with her in the room. Or anywhere near me.” 

Suddenly, Audrey shoots up from her chair and makes both me and Anna jump. “Jesus Christ, April,” she says, exploding. “Are you serious? This whole act is getting super fucking old.” 

My face transforms into an instant frown. “What act?” I say. “How about  _ your _ act? You’re not her best friend, you know. You’re not her twin. You can’t replace me, no matter how hard you try. And you think you’re so high and mighty. I fucking hate you!” 

Audrey’s eyes widen, eyebrows up. “Oh, you hate me?” 

“Yeah, I do,” I say, and realize my hands are shaking. 

“Guys, stop. Seriously, stop,” Anna says.

“Yeah, Audrey. Stop,” I say. “Why don’t you just leave? Nobody wants you here.” 

“April!” Anna says. “Don’t say stuff like that. I want her here.” 

“Why?” I spit.

“She’s our sister!” 

My eyes burn with tears that well in my vision, wobbling on the edge, nearly spilling over. “Not like she gives a shit about that,” I say. I blink hard and feel the wetness on my cheeks. 

“What are you even saying?” Audrey says. 

“I don’t know how you think I just forgot, or something,” I say, voice waterlogged. I look away from her and back to Anna. “In sophomore year, she was part of that whole group that picked on me. Until it got so bad I couldn’t even go to school. But home wasn’t safe either, because she was fucking here!” On the last word, my voice rises to a scream. I have no control anymore. “So, I have no clue how you can even look at her like a sister. She’s an evil bitch!” 

“Oh, my god, you really haven’t let that go,” Audrey says. 

“No, I haven’t,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. I yank my sleeves down and wrap my fingers around them, making sure no skin is bared. 

Audrey rolls her eyes and sighs. She opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “You were an attention whore then just like you are now,” she says. 

I take a step back, shaken that she’d say something like that. Anna looks between the two of us, at a loss. “Aud,” she says. “That was a really bad time for her. She wasn’t…” 

“No, that’s what she really thinks,” I spit. “What do you think about my Prozac now? That they’re sugar pills, or something? God, Audrey, you are so fucked up. And your kid is gonna be fucked up, too. I hope you have a little bit more compassion for that thing than you ever did for me.” 

“Oh, please, April,” she says, sighing loudly. “You were 15 and tired of being forgotten about. Anna got the grades. I played sports. People liked us. And the only person you ever hung out around was Jackson. The only way you were gonna get Mom and Dad’s attention was to cut yourself, and-”

“Don’t talk to me,” I say, backing up. “Anna and Jackson were the only people in the world who cared that I was hurting. They-” 

“No one else fucking knew!” she counters. “We just knew you looked like a fucking idiot with all those slashes all on your wrists. Like, that’s sad, Sunny. It’s such a stereotype.” 

My chin quivers and I can’t stop crying. “You’re the fucking worst,” I say, hicupping with sobs. “I never want to talk to you again.” I turn around and walk in the direction of the guest room, shoulders by my ears. 

“April,” Anna says. I ignore her. Even when I hear her footsteps approach me from behind. When I feel her hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around, I shake her off. “April,” she tries again.

“Leave me alone,” I say. “Just… leave me alone.” 

She does. She lets her hand drop and I retreat down the hall, opening the bedroom door as quietly as I can. In the dark, I change into pajamas; ones without sleeves. In the half-light of the moon coming in from the window, I sit on the edge of the bed and lay my arms wrists-up on my thighs. I stare at the marks Audrey ridiculed, tracing the short, parallel lines that go halfway to my elbow. There are more on my thighs, on my stomach, on my ribs. Each one just long enough for whatever pain I was feeling that day to escape, nothing more. I’d lose count if I tried to number them. 

I lay down and right away, Jackson gravitates to me and wraps one strong arm around my body, all tucked into itself. I close my eyes and feel a few tears leak out the sides, and I don’t try and stop them. The marks haven’t bothered me in years, but tonight they all sting. 

I grab his hand with both of mine and pull him closer. He’s the only thing that comes close to healing my scars - each and every one of them. 

…

The rest of the break goes by too slowly, but by January, Jackson, Anna and I are back at school in snowy Maine. Mine and Anna’s dorm room is cold, but I don’t stay long to experience it. I dump my suitcase and turn to meet Jackson who’s waiting in the hallway. We already planned that I’d spend the first night back with him. I don’t say goodbye to my sister. 

The next morning, the sky is white and the ground is whiter. Jackson’s body is warm as the alarm goes off, and I reach over to shut it up. The new semester starts today, but I’ve never wanted to get out of bed less than I do right now. 

“Don’t make me go,” I say, turning to speak against his bare skin. 

“Mmm…” he sighs, tightening his arm around me. “Wish we could stay here all day.” 

“Me, too.” 

We both know we can’t, though. We’re a lot of things, but we’re not the type to skip the first day of classes. We share a toothbrush because I forgot mine in my dorm, and even though we live in the same building, I know that Anna is getting ready right now, too. I don’t want to run into her. In fact, that’s the last thing I want. I’ve never been more thankful for our opposite classes.

Jackson and I hold hands through campus, until it’s time to part ways to different buildings. “Dinner tonight?” I ask as he moves my scarf down to kiss me goodbye. 

“Sure,” he says. “Pizza.” 

“Fine,” I say. “Even though I really don’t need-” 

He wraps his arms around my middle, giving me one of the big hugs he’s famous for. “Quiet, skinny-minnie,” he says, lifting me off the ground. “Meet me in the dining hall after your 4pm.” 

“Then we can go back to your place and watch that movie you were talking about,” I say, clinging to his fingers with my own. 

“Hmm…” he says, lifting one shoulder. 

“What?” I say. 

“I don’t know about that tonight,” he says. 

“Why?”

He sighs and looks me dead in the eyes. “Baby girl, you can’t avoid her forever.” 

I roll my eyes quickly. I knew that was the reasoning behind his answer, but I had wanted him to say it. Admittedly, I don’t feel any better after hearing it. “Like I said, I can try,” I say.

“That wasn’t funny the first time,” he says. 

“I’m not being funny.” 

He sighs and runs one hand over my knitted hat. “You know I love when you hog my bed, Sunny girl, but I think you should stay with your sister tonight.” 

I huff, letting my cheeks puff out as I do. “Fine,” I say, then shove his chest playfully. “But you’re the worst.” 

“That’s what I’ve been told,” he says. “Gimme kiss.” 

I hold his face and press my cold lips to his, then wave until he disappears inside the building. Afterwards, I shove my hands into my pockets and trudge through the snow towards my own class a few buildings away, unable to stop thinking about what tonight might bring. 

…

After dinner, I drag my feet on the way to join Anna in our dorm. When I stick the key in the lock and turn it, my heart turns to stone and my stomach churns; that pizza might make a second appearance. 

I walk inside and take my winter gear off without looking around. Once I hang everything up, I turn to see the living area deserted, but there’s soft music coming from the bedroom. That’s undoubtedly where she is. I take a deep breath and bide my time in going there, but I want to change out of my snowy clothes and that’s where my wardrobe is. 

I walk through the open door and avoid looking at her, though I can feel her watching me. She’s not wearing headphones - there’s no reason to, since she was home alone - and there’s no homework on the first day. It almost seems like she was waiting for me, which is creepy. If we were on better terms, I would’ve found it sweet, but we aren’t. So, it’s creepy. 

With my back facing her, I change out of my pink cable knit sweater and into a red t-shirt we found at a garage sale a few years ago. It says Scuba Steve Scuba Squad on it, with a guy in scuba gear in the middle. It’s soft and worn; one of my favorites. 

When I turn around, wearing pajama pants instead of frozen jeans, Anna says, “That’s mine.” I look up out of habit. She has been watching me; my feeling was right. My eyes must give away my confusion, because she clarifies. “That shirt. It’s mine.”

I look down, like I might’ve accidentally put on something different than what I originally thought. “No, it’s not,” I say, walking towards my bed. 

“I bought it.” 

“We’ve always shared it,” I say. “Or are you done sharing with me now?” 

She’s silent. Silent for so long that I think she’s given in and found common ground with me - we don’t need to speak to each other. But unfortunately, I’m wrong. “You’re so out of line, you know,” she says, breaking the tension in the room. 

I look at her from where I’m sitting, cross-legged on my bed across the room. “I am?” I say, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. It’s not like it could be anything different. 

She nods solidly, completely convinced. “You are,” she says. “And you know it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” 

I shake my head. “You’re wrong,” I say. 

“I’ve been on your side through everything,” she says. “ _ Everything _ , April. And you can’t be there for me for this one thing?” 

“I would be, had you let me,” I mumble, not meeting her eyes. 

“How am I not letting you?” she asks defensively. “Tell me.” 

“You know how I feel about Audrey,” I say. “Because of-” 

“I know why,” she says. “She was awful to you then. I know. I remember it, too. But I was there for you. Whenever you needed someone to talk to, I listened. Even when I didn’t understand. When you tried the ice thing to stop… doing what you were doing, and it didn’t work. When you tried the rubber bands. I was there, Sunny, I was there.” 

“You make it sound like a job,” I say, wounded. “Sorry that being my sister is such hard work, Anna.” 

“Stop turning this around,” she says, practically bristling. “I’ve always been a shoulder for you. And when I need you, literally the one time, this is how you act. Do you even see yourself? See how you’re acting?” 

I raise my eyes and let them burn into her. “Do you see  _ your _ self?” I ask. “We tell each other everything. And you just decided one day to stop. Without even asking me.” 

“It wasn’t like that,” she says. 

“And then when you do tell me, you tell Audrey at the same time,” I say. “That’s just-”

“You’re jealous!” she sputters, like she’s been holding it in the whole time. “Just admit it, Sunny. You don’t like that I have people other than you.” 

“No,” I say. “I have Jackson; why would I-”

“Exactly,” she says. “You have Jackson. Audrey has Noah. Everyone has someone. Why can’t I have someone, too? You think he’s gonna take me away from you, or something? I get that. You think I haven’t felt like that with you and Jackson before? Of course, I have. But can you just fucking say it? Why do you have to make a huge thing out of it and make me feel awful about myself?” 

“I didn’t make you feel like anything,” I say, sliding off my bed. My feet hit the floor and I say, “However you feel is all you. It’s no wonder you feel guilty.” 

“I’m allowed to be happy, too,” she says. “I don’t exist just to… serve you, or whatever.” 

“As if I think that.” 

“It’s not fair of you to think that you can have Jackson, but I can’t have someone,” she says. 

“That’s not even the problem!” I say. “You didn’t  _ tell  _ me.”

“I didn’t need your permission and I still don’t,” she says. “I really like him. And you’re not gonna ruin it for me.” 

“‘Cause I just ruin everything,” I say, ripping off the pajamas I had just put on. 

“Yeah, you do,” she says. “You really do.” 

“Whatever, Anna,” I say, throwing the red shirt at her. “Have the fucking shirt. Take what’s yours. I don’t give a fuck.”

I put on street clothes again and shove my feet into my boots, then zip up my coat with more force than necessary. “Where’re you going?” Anna calls. 

I don’t bother answering. 

…

The next day, I wake up and my head weighs ten thousand pounds. With each beat of my heart, blood pounds against every surface of my skull and caves my eyes in, and what little light that spills in from the window sears my retinas. “Jesus Christ,” I mumble, only to find that my tongue feels huge and I have a horrible case of cottonmouth. 

“Ah, you’re up,” Jackson says, and I open my eyes to slits. He wasn’t who I expected to see. 

“Baby?” I say. 

“Hey,” he says, stroking my hair out of my eyes. “Sit up. You need to drink this.” 

He supports my back as I straighten up as best I can. He hands me a bottle of blue Gatorade - the kind I like with the nozzle - and encourages me to drink it. “My head…” I groan, my voice raspy and barely-there.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, then hands me a few pills. “Ibuprofen.” 

“Thanks,” I say, then drink more of the Gatorade to wash the pills down.

“Alright, lay back,” he says, helping me recline again.

I close my eyes when my head hits the pillow, letting out a long exhale. “Fuck,” I say hoarsely. “What happened?” 

“You tell me,” he says.

I shoot him a look as best I can with narrowed eyes, shaking my head a tiny bit. “Can’t,” I say. 

“You don’t remember?” he says. I shake my head again. “Damn, you really were trashed.” 

I reach up and cover my face with my hands, trying to dig back in my memory. The last thing I remember is getting to the bar right by campus; the one where everyone goes to drink. That would explain the hangover. But anything beyond walking through the doors is gone. 

“How’d I get here?” I ask. 

“You called me,” he says. “Could barely understand a damn thing you were saying, honestly. You were schwasted. Luckily, we have each other’s locations, so I could see where you were.” 

“Paddy Murphys,” I say, offering what little I can remember. 

“Yep,” he says. “Good, at least you got that. I got there and you could barely stand up. Pretty much had to carry you to the car. You were a mess, babe. It was pretty bad.” 

“I’m sorry,” I say. 

“You were saying something about Anna,” he says. “A lot of stuff I really couldn’t understand. But her name kept coming up.” 

“Yeah,” I say, sighing. I close my eyes again. “We fought last night.” 

“That’s why you left?” 

I pause, then give the obvious answer. “Yeah.” 

“Should I call her?” he asks. “Let her know you’re here?” 

I frown and shake my head with conviction. “No,” I say. “She doesn’t care.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**APRIL**

My eyes burn, my throat is dry, and my head is pounding. I haven’t had a hangover like this in forever; maybe not in my life. I’m not usually a heavy drinker, but last night I went off the rails. Mine and Anna’s fight pissed me off so much, that drinking until I blacked out seemed like the best option. I hadn’t considered the after-effects. I typically don’t. 

“Who were you with last night?” Jackson asks, sitting next to me on the bed. He brushes the hair out of my face and I let out a long sigh, eyelids fluttering.

“Myself,” I say. 

“You went alone?” he says. I nod mutely. He’s frustrated, and lets me know as much with a soft groan. “Why would you do that?” 

I shrug. “Was upset.” 

He sighs and messes with the blanket. “Well, it was dumb. Something bad could’ve happened.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I know you are,” he says. “But bad shit happens to drunk girls, especially drunk girls who are alone. Will you just promise to tell me the next time you decide to go on a bender?” He rubs his temples. “That was so irresponsible.”

“You basically already said that.” 

“I just can’t believe you’d go and get fucked up on a school night,” he says. “Just… what the fuck? I don’t get it. I mean, I know you and Anna fought, but come on.” 

“It was a bad fight. I was mad. I’m actually still mad. And I’m mad that I’m still mad, ‘cause the alcohol was supposed to make that go away. So, now I’m thinking it was pretty pointless.” 

“Sure,” he says, his heart only half in it. “What did you guys fight about?” 

I roll my eyes mostly to myself and turn halfway over. “Doesn’t matter,” I mumble, tucking my hands under my chin. 

“Can you even remember?” 

“Yes,” I snap, glaring in his direction. 

“What else can you remember?” 

I rack my brain, trying to place the last image I have of last night. I can recall walking in the doors of Paddy Murphys, sitting down at the bar, and drinking a beer. After that, everything until waking up in this bed is gone. I don’t remember calling Jackson or getting in his car. I don’t remember paying for my drinks, or if I even did. It’s scarier than I let on, having a blank spot in my memory. That’s never happened to me before. I make a vow, right then and there, that I won’t do it again. He’s right, it was irresponsible. But I don’t want to admit that out loud.

“Not a lot,” I say. 

“April…” he says.

“What?” 

He gives me a weird look. His eyes are heavy with feeling, and there’s a line of concentration between his eyebrows. “I’m just freaked out,” he says, not keeping my gaze for long. 

“I’m fine,” I insist, trying to play it off. “I’m not gonna do it again. Quit worrying.” He doesn’t speak, but all his worries swim behind his eyes so obviously that he might as well just voice them. “Baby,” I say, shifting to rest my head on his lap. Habitually, he weaves his fingers through my hair to comb it out of my eyes. The feeling is instantly comforting. “I’m okay. I’m really sorry for scaring you.” 

“Thanks,” he says, looking down at my face. 

After smiling at him and resting my eyes for a moment, I reach for my purse that’s hanging on the bedpost. I dig around until I come across the shape of my phone, then pull it out. I look at the screen and press the home button, but it doesn’t light up. “Shit,” I say. “Dead.” Then, I clamber for his charger that I know is plugged into the wall. 

“Not right now,” Jackson says, gently taking the phone from me. “You need to rest. You’re super dehydrated.” 

“But my phone,” I say, whining.

“It can wait,” he says. “You should go back to sleep.” 

“I’m not tired,” I claim.

“Then rest your eyes,” he says, then hands me the Gatorade again. “And drink more of this.”

I oblige without putting up a fight, grabbing the bottle to take a long swig. Once I’m done, I set it on the floor and glance at Jackson because I still feel his eyes. “What?” I say, without a hint of a tone. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “You just don’t seem like you.” 

I force a small, fake smile. “Well, I promise I’m not pulling the old switcheroo,” I say. 

He doesn’t laugh. Neither do I. 

…

A while later, Jackson lies down next to me and falls asleep. I love him when he’s asleep, sometimes even more than while he’s awake. Maybe it’s not that I love him more, but he’s so innocent. He’s the quietest sleeper ever; he never snores, and he barely moves. If he does, it’s only to pull me closer. And he’s always so warm. 

I’ve done enough sleeping, though, and Ibuprofen helped my head. So now, all I do is lay here, listen to him inhale and exhale, and rehash what I remember from last night. The fight, mostly. It’s not so much the words that come back, but the expression on Anna’s face. She’s never looked at me like that before, so desperate and resentful. We’re sisters, twins to raise the stakes, so of course we fight. All the time. But for some reason, this one feels ten times more serious than anything we’ve ever come across before. For some reason, I feel like she doesn’t like me anymore. I know she loves me. It would be impossible to stop loving a twin. Nothing she could do could make me stop loving her. But liking someone is different. Liking someone is fleeting and temporary. And I don’t think she has any warm feelings towards me right now. My stomach hurts because of it, and my chest does, too. 

I rub the spot that aches, throbs really, between my breasts. It feels hollow, like something is missing, though I know that’s impossible. Maybe I need to throw up. Jackson put a big bowl next to the bed just in case it happened, so I lean over and close my eyes, expecting to heave. But nothing comes. Instead, the pain dulls and disappears, so I lie down again. As I close my eyes, though, it returns with a vengeance.

My cheeks heat up as it roots itself and coils, twisting into a braid of harsh stabbing. Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? Am I dying? Can too much alcohol do that to someone? 

I elbow Jackson awake, probably too hard. “Ow,” he says, one hand on his ribs. “Baby, stop. What?” 

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” I say, sitting up. The room spins when I do. The hangover is definitely still here. 

“No, you’re not,” he says, but he sits up, too. With one hand on my back, he rubs small circles over the t-shirt of his that I’m wearing. 

“I think I am,” I say, massaging my chest. “They say the pain happens right here for women. I read that on the back of a fitting room door once. And it really hurts. It came out of nowhere.” 

“Boo, it’s anxiety,” he says. “It has the same exact symptoms as a heart attack. You just need to breathe.” 

My skin begins to cool as I realize he’s right. He’s always right, and so logical. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I would never make it alone. That thought makes me realize that I need Anna, too, but I can’t have her right now. She took Audrey’s side. I still feel betrayed. 

But I have my other favorite person here, the one who’s never let me down a day in my life. The one who can always talk me back to Earth. “Okay?” he says, helping me lie flat again. “You okay?”

I nod slowly. The pain begins to subside, which makes me feel better. “Sorry,” I say. “I got scared.” 

“Don’t say sorry,” he says. 

“I was thinking about the fight,” I mumble. “And stuff.” He doesn’t press for details, but he does watch me. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, and when I blink, tears fall. “How can Anna…” I sniffle and close my eyes for a long beat. “After how Audrey hurt me in high school, how can they be close now? Does none of what happened before even matter?” I open my eyes again and they sting. “Have I been a burden to her this entire time?” 

“What?” he asks, totally lost. 

“That’s what she said, basically,” I tell him. “She was like,  _ I’ve always been there for you so it’s shitty that you can’t be here for me _ .” 

“There for you, like, in high school?” 

I nod. “And I told her to stop making it sound like a job. But maybe it did feel like that to her. I just take, take, take, and she just always gave and gave to me… I know I wasn’t the easiest person to be around back then, and I’m probably still not, but… I never thought  _ she _ saw me that way.” I turn to him. “You don’t see me like that, do you?” 

“Baby, no,” he says, instantly. It’s just what I need to hear, but it makes me further devolve into sobs. Louder and more insistent, these beg to be heard. “And she doesn’t, either.”

The chest pain comes back. I press a hand to the spot like I had before and try to breathe, but air doesn’t come easily. I’m choking, drowning above water, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I’m crying too hard to make sense of anything, and nothing is as it should be. It’s all wrong. I’m all wrong. 

My scars ache and tingle, then itch like crazy. With tense fingers, I reach down and start to scratch them like mad, intent on making the crawling feeling go away. If it breaks skin, it breaks skin. I don’t care. I just want all this to stop.

That thought is scarily akin to how I used to think back in high school, when I’d get out the razor blades and the safety pins. But now, the only things I have are my nails. Raking them over the scars isn’t enough, but it’s all I have. 

When I start scratching harder and more manically, Jackson realizes what I’m doing and grabs my wrists. “Stop it,” he says firmly, and I go limp. I close my eyes and curl into him, and he rubs my back. He must think I’m insane. I might be. But crazy people don’t actually know they’re crazy, do they? I don’t think so. So, I’m not psycho… just unhinged. I’m not sure what’s worse.

“I don’t feel good,” I moan, turning onto my side. My head feels light, but too heavy. I’ve never had a hangover this bad. And I can’t stop crying. Jackson was right earlier when he said that I don’t seem like me. I don’t feel like me, either. 

When I look at him, he’s wearing a worried expression. That doesn’t make me feel any better. “Do you want me to call your mom?” he asks.

I shake my head with what feels like vigor, but it probably comes across weak. “No,” I say. “She’ll be mad.” 

“Okay,” he says. “Then maybe you should try going back to sleep. Did you drink more Gatorade?”

“I’ll throw it up.” 

“Alright,” he says, and I can tell he’s trying to sound sure. But the veneer is thin and I see through it. I appreciate the effort, but I’m scared. I have no idea why I’m scared, but I am. Am I dying? I promise myself, right then, never to drink again. “Lay your head on me,” he says.

I give in. Of course, he’s giving me everything I need, but I still don’t feel right. Sleep will help. It has to. So, I do as he suggested and rest my head in the crook of his shoulder, and he wraps me up tight in his arms. 

“You’re okay,” he says, very softly. He kisses my hairline and shushes me like you would do for a baby. “I got you. I got you right here.” 

“I don’t feel good,” I say again, and I know I sound like a child, but I can’t help it. 

“I know,” he says, because there’s not much else to say. He doesn’t know how to fix it and neither do I. This is the best we can do.

So, I close my eyes and try to stop crying, hoping with everything I have that this awful feeling will be gone by the time I wake up. 

…

I don’t know how long I sleep, but I wake up to the sound of Jackson’s voice. I know it’s his voice, but for some reason it doesn’t sound like him at all. 

“Oh, my god,” he says. “Karen, I…” 

He’s on the phone with my mom. After I told him not to call. Suddenly, I’m annoyed. I still don’t feel well, but I’m not dying. He didn’t need to call her. “Babe,” I groan, trying to lift my head. For some reason, though, it’s still heavy. I could sleep for a year. “Babe,” I say again, this time a little louder. But he won’t look at me. 

In fact, he turns his back. I furrow my eyebrows and stare at his shoulders with a frown, confused at what he’s doing. I can’t hear what he’s saying or whether he’s speaking at all. My brain is so foggy, almost blank. Like nothing is inside it at all. 

“Jackson,” I say again, trying to sound firmer. It doesn’t come out that way, though. “Jackson?” Something isn’t right. 

I know it for a fact when he turns around and his face is ashen. I’ve never seen him wear the expression that he’s wearing right now, and I can’t put my finger on what emotion it is. It’s either complete blankness or he’s feeling too much to choose just one. Both options scare me.

“What’s going on?” I ask, desperate for answers. But again, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just hands over the phone with a stiff, outstretched arm, and I take it. “Hello?” I say. 

“Hi, honey.” My mom has been crying. My stomach drops. My chest hurts worse now. 

“Mom, what’s going on?” I ask. My voice trembles and I can’t keep it from doing so. I don’t think this is about my hangover. 

“Honey, I…” she begins, but her voice breaks. She inhales deeply, tries to clear her throat, but a sob escapes instead of a continuation of her sentence. “Oh, honey,” is all she follows with.

“Mama,” I say, my whole body gone clammy. “Please, tell me what’s going on. Please.”

She’s crying hard now, not even trying to speak. Then, the line goes quiet before I hear my dad’s voice. “Sunflower,” he says, and his tone is so, so serious. The last time I heard him sound like this is… I don’t know. Maybe never. 

“Daddy,” I say, sounding young. “Why’s Mom crying like that? What happened?” 

“April,” he says solemnly. “It’s Anna.”

After Anna’s name is followed by the word “dead,” I stop listening. I refuse to hear whatever comes next. I wish I hadn’t heard as much as I already have. It’s not possible. She’s not. I would feel it if she were dead. 

But I _ have _ been feeling it. Or rather, the complete opposite. I’ve been feeling so incredibly empty. Is that because my twin is gone? 

I drop the phone and hear it clatter to the floor in the back of my mind. I don’t care, though. I sit there, legs hanging off Jackson’s bed, and stare at a spot on the wall. There’s a little nick that I made - one night, Jackson was spinning me around while cradling my body in his arms and my phone smacked the plaster. That feels like a million years ago, so inconsequential. Everything does, everything that led up to this point. 

Anna is dead. My twin is gone.

How am I still here?

Jackson is standing in front of me, his eyes lined up with mine, mouth moving slowly. I know he’s speaking, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying. It’s like I’m trapped underwater, just below the surface, watching everything happen above me. I blink slowly, right at him, and he prompts me to respond with a nod of his head. He has tear stains on his cheeks. He’s crying. Am I? I don’t think so. How am I not crying? My insides are broken. All I should be doing is crying. 

“...you hear me?” I catch the tail end of his sentence as he pops the bubble I found myself in. His hands are on my shoulders, steady as anchors. He’s always so steady. 

I shake my head no. I didn’t hear him. I’m not sure if I want to. 

“She was in an accident,” he says, now kneeling in front of me. He puts his hands on my thighs and rests his head on my knees, and I realize how hard he’s crying. I want to put a hand on his head to comfort him, he loves that. But I don’t. I can’t move. He lifts up so I can see his bloodshot eyes. They’re already so red. “She swerved off the road. Probably to miss something, they’re not really sure.” He tries to inhale, but his breath catches in his throat. “She hit a tree.” He closes his eyes for a long beat and I watch the tears leak out. “Two joggers found the car this morning. And… and her.”

My whole body is cold. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again. My twin was dead on the side of the road all night. She wasn’t found until morning. No one knew for hours. We didn’t know, we didn’t help, and we left her to die. Maybe she suffered. Maybe she could’ve been saved. But we let her go. I did. I let her go. 

The chest pain comes back and I welcome it. The rest of my body is numb except for that specific spot, that searing red belt across my sternum. I almost need it. If it goes, I won’t feel anything. And I need to feel something.

Jackson gets up from the floor and climbs into bed with me, pulling me into his arms, though he’s the one who’s crying. I still haven’t shed a tear and I’m a traitor because of it. Jackson still can’t catch his breath, but I can’t center my thoughts. This can’t be happening. This is a sick dream, and when I wake up I’m going to apologize to my sister. We’ll make up. Things will be different. I’ll meet her boyfriend and be good to him. We’ll put this behind us. I can’t wait to forget this moment. I make a promise to myself that I won’t tell her about this dream. She wouldn’t like to know. 

Jackson’s chest vibrates with his tepid breath. “It was so late. Why was she out on the road?” he asks.

I don’t have the answer to that; at least, I don’t think I do. He’s right; it doesn’t make sense. She should’ve been asleep. But then again, last night, I was doing something else when I should’ve been asleep, too. Maybe she was going to see him. Maybe he’s the one to blame. 

“I just don’t get it,” Jackson continues. 

I shake my head to offer my agreement, but I’m not sure he registers it. My body is limp and unresponsive; I can’t do much for him right now, and he can’t do much for me. Neither of us know what the next step is. Without Anna, it doesn’t seem like there is one. She was a sister to him as she was to me; they were close in their own weird way. He’s grieving, but I still can’t accept the fact that she’s gone. 

I need to check my phone. This is a mistake. I’ll text her and she’ll answer, and we’ll get everything straightened around. I’ll dry Jackson’s tears and call my sister, and once he hears her voice he won’t be so upset. She can’t be gone. He’ll feel silly for crying, and I’ll have been the one to keep a level head for once. 

I slip off the bed and go for my phone. Not Jackson’s that I dropped, but mine that’s dead and in my purse. I dig for Jackson’s charger and plug my phone in, then stare and wait for the screen to light up. It takes forever, but once it comes back to life, I type in my passcode and open the messages immediately, ready to get this sorted out. But as I click on Anna’s thread, I decide that calling her will fix this faster. So, I click the dial pad and type in her memorized number, then listen to it ring. It goes and goes, and each time the sound reverberates in my ear it makes me sicker. Then, I hear her voice on the outgoing message. 

“Hey, it’s Anna. Leave me a message. Or just text me. Bye!” Then, she laughs. It’s cut off by the sound of the beep, though. I don’t say anything. I just hang up and stare at my call log. 

Right below the call I just made is another one to Anna’s phone, placed at 2:03am. She answered it, too, because the font is black - not red. It lasted for a minute and two seconds, that’s it. 

I rack my brain. That was last night. I can’t remember why I called her or what was said. I can’t remember at all… that is, until I do. 

_ I was at Paddy Murphys wearing jeans and a tank top, which wouldn’t have been weird if it was May or June. But it was January, which meant that everyone else was bundled up and the guys were all staring at my shoulders. As if that was something to get horny about. Or maybe they were staring at my hair, which was a certified mess. After leaving the dorm, I threw a winter hat over it and sweated all the way to the bar. I could see frizzy tendrils flying around my eyes. Maybe the guys weren’t horny at all. They were probably confused. Maybe a little disgusted and concerned. I had already started drinking, and I wasn’t going slow.  _

_ I had a beer in front of me, and I don’t even like beer. But the glasses were cold and they gave me something to hold onto, which I needed. I needed a reason to be there, no matter how stupid that sounded. And sitting at that bar, making small talk with the bartender while nursing a beer, was reason enough.  _

_ “Hey, beautiful. You’re not drinking alone, are you?”  _

_ I turned towards the source of the voice, some stupid part of my brain thinking it was Jackson. He’s the only one who calls me “beautiful” like that, and the only one who’s allowed to. But it wasn’t him. It was some smarmy guy probably in his mid-40s with the gut to prove it.  _

_ “Fuck off,” I said, rolling my eyes.  _

_ “Bitch,” he said in return, kicking his barstool away.  _

_ “Takes one to know one,” I muttered under my breath. When drunk, I’m even worse at comebacks than I am sober. _

_ “Ignore him,” another voice said. I looked up and saw yet another man.  _

_ “I have a boyfriend,” I said, and my words were slurred. The word “boyfriend” sounded funny out loud.  _

_ “Oh, yeah, for sure,” the guy said, palms up like he wanted me to know he wasn’t a threat. “But Jimmy does that to every girl with a pulse that walks in here.”  _

_ I took a long sip of beer. There was no way I was going to let it get warm. “Wonderful,” I said.  _

_ He laughed. “No, I think you’re pretty,” he said. “But you have a boyfriend. Like you said.”  _

_ “Yeah, I do, and he’s hot,” I said, just to say it.  _

_ “Too bad he’s not here,” the guy said. “I’d give him my number. But instead, I can just pay it forward by taking care of you.” I shot him a look. Probably a bloodshot one, but all the same. “Not like that,” he clarified. “But I won’t let Jimmy come back. And the rest of your drinks are on me.”  _

_ “Why?” I asked, squinting.  _

_ He came back with, “Why not?”  _

_ I didn’t know how much time passed as we had drink after drink. I lost count after a while, of both the hours and the shots slammed back. Whenever I get drunk, it’s usually with Jackson on his couch, and we end up giggling until 3am when we fall asleep on each other. This didn’t feel like that. I felt sloppy and like I could say anything, or  _ would _ say anything. I felt like I was going to make a mistake that I really didn’t want to make with a guy who was probably gay. He was gay, right? That was why he wanted Jackson’s number? That’s what I told myself, but it reached a point where I needed to get away from him. It wasn’t that I wanted to cheat, not at all, but I had too much tequila in my veins. And tequila is known to make my clothes fall off before I make very, very poor decisions.  _

_ But I couldn’t connect my synapses to say the right words. I kept laughing, having a good time. Every time I looked towards the door, someone new would walk in and buy everyone another round. I eventually lost track of the maybe-gay guy who talked to me first. I didn’t really care where he went, because I wasn’t alone. Everyone in Paddy Murphys was suddenly my best friend. I completely forgot about the bad shit that happened earlier in the evening and just let myself go. It felt good. I stopped worrying and let myself feel good. Who cared if I stayed out all night and needed to be scraped off the sidewalk in the morning? At least I had fun. At least I was with people who cared about me. So what, if I didn’t know their names? They made me laugh and they thought I was awesome.  _

_ “Aren’t you cold?” someone asked. It was a girl. I couldn’t tell if she was older than me or my age. Or maybe she was younger, with a fake ID. I had no idea. She had one of those faces. _

_ She ran her fingers down my arms and the contact felt so good. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to go home and bang Jackson. I’m not typically a horny drunk, but right then I was feeling it. Like, a lot.  _

_ “No,” I answered, blinking hard right into her eyes. They were this crazy magnetic, dark blue. I’d never seen anything like them before. “You’re pretty,” I said, before I had any control over the words tumbling from my mouth. _

_ She giggled and touched my arms again. I pretended it was Jackson. I wanted him really, really bad. I wondered what he was doing right then. There was no clock in sight, but it was probably late. He was probably asleep. Even if I went home now, I’d have to wake him up to have sex. He wouldn’t complain, but it wouldn’t be the same as both of us being drunk and fucking. _

_ “So are you,” the girl replied.  _

_ I didn’t want to fuck her. It wasn’t like that. But there was something about her that was driving me crazy and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. But I would never cheat on Jackson. Ever, ever. I wouldn’t even let the thought cross my mind. He’s my favorite person in the world and I didn’t know this girl from Adam.  _

_ But then she kissed me and it all went to hell. Because I liked it and I let it last for a beat too long before I stopped it. Her lips were so soft and she tasted like the alcohol already coating my mouth, and her hands were gentle on the slopes of my jaw. Only when her tongue touched the tip of mine did I jolt back to reality and realize how bad I fucked up.  _

_ “No,” I said, stumbling backwards, away from her.  _

_ She looked shocked. “You didn’t like it?” she asked.  _

_ I wiped my mouth. “I have a boyfriend,” I said.  _

_ “I thought you had a boyfriend, you lesbo!” the guy from before hollered. He was smiling. “All you had to say was that you like pussy.”  _

_ “I don’t… I…” I stammered, mouth gone dry. The room was spinning. I had to get out of there. I could feel the girl’s eyes on me, the girl I didn’t even know, and I still felt her on my lips. “I have to go.”  _

_ As I turned around, she touched my ass. For a moment, I thought she was copping a feel, but I soon realized she was slipping a piece of paper into my jeans pocket. “Call me,” she purred, running her hand down my arm again. She kissed my cheek after.  _

_ “Fuck off,” I said, and shoved her. I tried to put a lot of force behind it, but she barely moved. All she did was laugh. “Fuck you… fuck,” I breathed, then tripped my way out of the bar.  _

_ I stood on the sidewalk, shivering. I couldn’t remember where I left my coat, and the sky was so black. It felt like the middle of an endless night. I could literally feel the world spinning as it revolved around the sun, and I needed it to stop. But what would happen if it did? I wondered if I would feel this way forever, even when I stopped being drunk. _

_ I sat down against the building, knees to my chest. The air was cold, but the ground was colder. I barely felt it, though, with the alcohol coursing through me. All I felt was shame. I needed to get out of there, but who could I call? I couldn’t call Jackson after what I did. Even though she technically kissed me, I let it happen. Didn’t I?  _

_ I didn’t want to call Anna, but I had no other option. I knew I’d be waking her up, but I would freeze to death if I waited out here all night. Ubers didn’t come around this way. And I wasn’t going back into that bar.  _

_ I pressed her contact and, with a shaking hand, held the phone to my ear. It rang and rang, but right before voicemail could pick up, she did. “Hello?” Her voice was muffled, maybe against the pillow. She had definitely been asleep.  _

_ I cleared my throat and tried to sound as sober as possible. “Banana, I’m drunk.” The words came out faster than I could police them. Shit.  _

_ “Sunny?”  _

_ “Uh-huh,” I said pitifully.  _

_ “Where are you?”  _

_ I craned my neck to look at the sign above the bar, as if it might have changed. “Paddy Murphys,” I told her. “I fucked up. I fucked up really bad.” I started to cry and knew I wouldn’t be able to stop. “Can you come get me? I need you to come get me.”  _

_ “Alright,” she said, sighing as she presumably sat up. “I’m coming. I’ll be right there.”  _

_ “Hurry.”  _

_ We hung up and I waited. And waited. And waited. My sense of time was off, but I knew that when the horizon started to turn a watery orange-yellow that I had been waiting too long. My skin had basically iced over. I couldn’t wait any longer. I pushed the reason as to why I couldn’t call Jackson out of my head and pressed his contact. Anna probably fell back to sleep and left me here to freeze. _

_ “I need you to come get me,” I told him. My whole body was shaking at that point. I needed help. _

_ He was there within ten minutes, helping me into the car that was blasting heat. As I thawed, the tears came back and the memories from inside and just outside the bar faded. I was crying but didn’t know why.  _

But now, I do.

I made two big mistakes last night. 

I cheated on Jackson. 

And I put my sister on the road that killed her. 


	5. Chapter 5

> **JACKSON**
> 
> **2014 - AGE 16**

This is one of the only times I can remember where I can’t tell the twins apart. They’re both wearing the same green bikini with ties at the hips and neck, with their hair up in similar buns. They’re even wearing the same sunglasses; I swear, even the constellations of freckles on their shoulders are identical. 

I’m reclined on a towel under an umbrella, watching them play like kids. I can hear them laughing from where I sit, still trying to decipher who’s who. As soon as I think I have it, though, their personalities switch. They’re in good moods, trading places like it’s nothing. To them, it probably is nothing.

I take a sip of Pepsi from a can that I’m pretty sure belongs to April, but either way, twins have the same DNA, and get more comfortable. The sun has begun to set, but the heavy humidity of the air isn’t going anywhere. It’s why we came to the beach today; we were willing to do anything to stop sweating. Their house’s air conditioning is busted, and I don’t have one to begin with. Other than the library, which got boring after an hour or so, this was our best bet. 

“Get on! I’m gonna fling you,” one of the twins says loudly. I’m tempted to think that’s April - I recognize the laughing tone in her voice. 

“Kneel down then. I can’t reach your tall ass shoulders.” But that sounds like April, too. Or maybe they both sound like Anna. I try to tell myself to just give it up, but it’s fun trying to guess - if not a little disconcerting. 

One of them climbs up on the back of the other and holds on tight. With their heads side-by-side like that, I’m seeing double. I’ve known them for years and years, but it’s still eerie how similar they look. They’re mirror images of one another. Up close, their facial expressions differ, that’s how I tell them apart. And of course, I automatically know once a conversation starts. But far away like I am right now, it’s nearly impossible. 

“Ah! I’m falling,” one of them says, clinging tighter. “Hold on.” 

“You hold on!” the other laughs. “You’re slippery.” 

“I can’t help it! We’re in the freaking water!” 

They both laugh and the one on her feet stumbles, then ends up dumping whoever is on her back into the waves. She comes up spitting water, but cackling still. “Jackson!” she shouts. “Come in. You’re stronger.” 

They want me to be the one to throw them into the water, I know that very well. “Nah, I’m good,” I call back with a smile. 

“Fun-sucker.” That has to be April. Has to be. 

“Let’s try again,” the other says, grabbing her twin’s attention. I keep watching them. “If we go deeper, I can pick you up easier.” They walk a little further, then one swoops the other into the air until she plummets back down. When she comes up, they’re both smiling. 

“Yes!” she cheers. “Now, do it to me.”

They take turns tossing each other into the dark blue water for a while, until they tire themselves out. Then, they trudge through the waves and back onto the sand, where both of them drip onto the surrounding towels as they stand above me. “You’re getting me all wet,” I say to no one in particular. 

“You’re getting the princess wet,” one says, then deposits herself onto my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and gives me one chaste kiss, then another. Obviously, it’s April. I’m glad to finally clarify their identities. It’s only fun for a certain amount of time. 

I don’t mind her soaking wet body nor the fact that her hair drips cold water onto my shoulders. As she leans her head against mine to look out at the sinking sun, I can’t help but think how lucky I am. 

…

> **2016 - AGE 18**

One of the Kepners’ favorite things to do is watch home videos around the holidays. It’s something that brings them together, and I love being included in on the tradition. I’ve been around for so long, that I’m in a lot of the videos, too. 

It’s around Thanksgiving, just a little before, as all of us sit in their living room and face the TV. Joe pops in a VHS tape - they’re the only people I know who still have VCRs - with a smile on his face. “You’re gonna like this one,” he says to no one and everyone. 

The screen crackles to life, black and white zigzags clearing to a fuzzy image of the twins when they were very small. They have their hair in identical pigtail braids, and their outfits are nearly identical, too. One is wearing a purple-and-white striped dress, the other pink. 

“You already know I was pink,” Anna says. 

I laugh, along with April and Karen. “Just wait,” Karen says, nodding at the screen. “Jackson, you’ll get a kick out of this.” 

“It’s so embarrassing!” April sings, wearing a grin. 

“It was their first day of kindergarten,” Karen says, then she’s echoed by her own voice on the tape. 

“It’s your first day, girls!” she trills. “Are you excited?” 

Neither of the girls answer. Both are solemn, and April has her thumb in her mouth as she looks at the camera with wide, soulful eyes. Then, the frame is yanked to one side, and Audrey’s young face fills the screen. “They gotta go in different classrooms and they’re super-duper sad,” she says, lisp on full effect. 

“But they’re gonna be okay,” Joe pipes up. 

The camera moves back to the twins, still rooted in place. Then, April dislodges her thumb and wraps her arms tightly around Anna’s middle. “No,” she grunts, lower lip pushed out. “Not going.” 

Anna quickly follows suit, mirroring her sister. “Not going,” she repeats. 

“Girls, we talked about this,” Joe warns. He sounds tired in a way that lets me know he had been anticipating this very scenario. 

“You guys can’t go in the same class ‘cause then people will think you’re weird,” Audrey says. 

“I don’t wanna!” April wails, still clinging to her twin. “I wanna go with Nanna! I’m gonna go with Nanna.” 

Anna isn’t crying, but she’s close. I find it funny that Karen is still holding the camera to capture the dramatics. “You’ll see her at the end of the day, sweetie pie,” she says. “And maybe at recess, too.” 

“I wanna see her  _ now _ ,” April says, obstinate as ever. From where she sits on the couch, I hear her giggle. “I won’t let go no matter what.” 

“Yeah, don’t let go,” Anna says, pressing her cheek to April’s. “Mommy, don’t make us. Don’t make us, please! Please, please!” 

“Girls...” Joe says, just as exhausted as before. 

Then, Anna starts crying because her teacher comes into the hallway and quietly asks if there’s a problem. In the background, I can vaguely hear Joe explaining the situation while the camera veers to the side and loses focus. Then, the teacher kneels to the kids’ levels and speaks to Anna, though Anna only clings tighter to April. 

“Should we go inside our classroom now?” the teacher asks, extending a hand that Anna refuses. 

“I don’t want to,” she says, then desperately looks to Karen.

“It’ll be fun, sweet girl,” Karen says. 

“No!” April cuts in. “It won’t!”

“Alright,” Joe says, intervening. He separates the twins and gets hearty protests because of it - April starts screaming her head off, and Anna outstretches her arms as if she’s being taken away from her sister forever.

“I want my Sunny! I want my Sunny!” she keeps shouting. She shouts until she disappears into a classroom and the hallway grows quieter - but only by a little. April is still causing a fuss. 

“You taked her away from me!” she cries, head thrown back. Karen tries to hug her, but April stiffens and turns away. Then, the camera turns off and the screen goes black. 

I smile to myself and look to the twins on the loveseat. With their knees to their chests and heads leaned in close, they’re grinning too. They’re together and there’s nothing to worry about. Everything is right. 

…

> **PRESENT**

It takes a couple days, but arrangements are made for Anna’s body to be flown to Salem. We join her on the same day. I’m not sure how the body identification process worked; I think Joe and Karen came to Maine to do it. They didn’t tell us. We didn’t ask.

April didn’t say a word on the plane, and now as we’ve de-boarded and grabbed our luggage, she’s still silent. She hasn’t even cried. I, on the other hand, feel a tightening in my throat every time I think about Anna. And it’s hard not to think about her. I can’t stop wondering if she was on the plane with us. She had to be, didn’t she? Was she in a casket? How else would they transport her? Is she already embalmed and dressed for the funeral? I have so many questions. A lot of answers, too, but I’m sure most of them are wrong. 

I can’t imagine how April must be feeling, and she won’t tell me. She’s all but shut down. It seems like her body is on autopilot; she’s physically present, but mentally very far away. I can’t reel her back in, either, though I haven’t tried very hard. She shouldn’t have to face this head-on. She lost her twin, a big part of who she is. The hole that Anna left is already too big to measure. April is ragged and torn, with no repairs visible in the near future. 

Karen and Joe were supposed to pick us up at the airport, but I see only the shock of Karen’s red hair as she stands by the arrival gate. She waves and gives us a small smile, and I return both gestures. Her eyes stay cemented on me. I see her gaze flit to April just once, then it immediately darts away.

I fall into Karen’s arms as easily as if she were my own mother, resisting the urge to break down sobbing. She doesn’t need someone else to take care of. Her child is dead. Their family is in shambles. I should be strong. I won’t cry. I refuse to let myself. So, I clear my throat and pull away, letting her frame my face with her hands and look at me with somber reverence. “I’m glad you’re both home,” she says. 

“Us, too,” I say, gripping April’s hand. She’s freezing. 

Karen hugs April, too, but doesn’t hold her face in the same manner that she held mine. “Oh…” Karen says, closing her eyes as she hugs April once more. She rests her chin on April’s shoulder and squeezes tight, but April doesn’t reciprocate with such vigor. Her body is stiff and unyielding, doing the bare minimum to return the embrace. “Oh, honey.” 

April doesn’t have anything to say, but I don’t think Karen expected her to speak. She just holds her, not minding the lack of feeling from April. Maybe she was anticipating it. 

When she lets go, Karen’s eyes rest on April for a fraction of a second, but that’s all. “Daddy will be back in a minute,” she tells her. “Then we can go.” 

“Where is Joe?” I ask. 

Karen meets my eyes and I immediately regret the question. “He’s checking on her,” Karen answers, forcing the words. “Just double-checking. Making sure she’s all squared away.” 

“Where will she go?” April asks. Her voice comes out as a croak, hoarse from disuse. 

“Daddy arranged for her to be taken to the funeral home,” Karen says. “They’ll get her ready for Sunday.” 

“They don’t have her clothes,” April says, frowning. “What will they put her in?” 

“Dad brought one of her old dresses,” Karen says. “The yellow one with the white flowers.” 

April tears away from her mother. “She hated that,” she says. “She wouldn’t want… she hated that dress.” 

Karen looks wounded. I want to say something to April, to tell her to lay off, but who am I to say that? Maybe she’s right. She knows Anna better than anyone else knows her. Knew her. 

“She can’t be buried in that,” April says. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Karen says, welling up. 

“It’s not okay!” April says. “Nobody asked me. I have a hundred other things that she’d like better. But none of you fucking asked me.” 

“Well, I’m asking you now,” Karen says, keeping her voice even to try and de-escalate her daughter. “What do you think she should wear, baby?”

“I’ll pick it out,” April says, sniffing harshly and blinking hard. She’s trying not to cry. I don’t know why she won’t just let herself do it. “And I’ll go to the funeral home and drop it off. Let me be the one to do it.” 

“Okay,” Karen says softly, placating her. “Okay.” Then, she nods down the hall. “Look, there’s Daddy. Let’s get you two home.” 

…

When we get to the house, Audrey and Noah are already there. I glance at April as I know she sees the car, but she doesn’t react. At least, not outwardly. I don’t think she has it in her to be combative with her sister, but on the other hand, I’m not sure. She’s unpredictable at the moment, and due to the mini-blow up at the airport over Anna’s funeral attire, it seems she’s working on a short fuse. 

We’re quiet as we walk towards the house, tromping through snow just as we’d done at the beginning of winter break. I take April’s hand and she lets me once again - but her skin is cold and dry, lifeless even. As soon as that descriptor wriggles into my head, I force it out. 

The house is devoid of any heart when we walk through the front door. The air is crackling with something I can’t name, but there’s no pulse to speak of. When the door shuts behind us after Karen and Joe come in, I take off my shoes like always and linger for a moment in the doorway. I don’t know what the next move is. I have so many questions, but I don’t want to ask any of them. They all have to do with Anna, but I don’t want to say her name. For some reason, I don’t feel like I’m allowed to.

I wonder how April is feeling. When I glance over, I see that her eyes are hard and glistening, like she’s still trying not to cry. I wish she wouldn’t do that, seal herself up like she does. It doesn’t help anyone in the long run. But it’s a habit. It’s how she copes, no matter how unhealthy of a mechanism it is. And now isn’t the time to ask her to change. 

Karen takes her shoes off and turns to April, hugging her much like she did in the airport. All I can do is watch them. Once again, April doesn’t wrap her arms around her mother; she’s like a doll that’s being squeezed too tightly. She doesn’t wrench away, though. It’s almost like she can’t, like she doesn’t have the strength to do it. When Karen finally lets her go, she cups April’s jaw in both hands and simply stares at her face, eyes roaming over April’s features slowly, like she’s soaking everything in. Finally. Like she had done for me. 

She’s looking at her dead daughter through the one that’s still alive. Once I realize that, I have to look away. My stomach hurts and a bitter taste appears on the back of my tongue. 

April realizes it before long, too, and turns her head violently away from her mother. “Stop it,” she says, without looking at her. “Don’t do that.” 

“I’m sorry,” Karen says, letting her go fully. “Honey.”

“I’m going to bed,” April says, though the sun has only just set. And being wintertime, it’s not even 6pm. 

But no one argues. I think we all come to a similar conclusion that while we’re in pain, there’s no imagining what she’s going through. She lost her counterpart. The other half of her that’s been there since they were cells inside the womb. When I think about it too hard, it breaks me all over again. So, I leave her be. We all do. 

Eventually, we migrate to the living room with tea, but no one drinks it. It goes cold in the mugs that sit atop the coffee table, and though we all sit in a circle, no one knows what to say. Audrey leans into Noah and he has his arm around her, stroking her shoulder, and seeing them makes me wish I had April. I wish she’d let me comfort her. But she prefers to isolate herself instead. 

Karen is the only one who’s actually holding a mug. It rests on her knees as she leans forward, hands curled around it, trying to absorb any heat it might offer. 

I can’t stop thinking about Anna’s cold body in the coffin. It has to be in a coffin by now, right? But isn’t there a whole process that goes along with picking those out? What else would she be transported in, though? Surely not a body bag or something equally as crass. That would be wrong. I close my eyes firmly and will the image away - the image of her being jostled around in the cargo section of the plane without any muscle resistance to keep it from happening - but it won’t go. My eyes burn with tears when I open them again, and I find that Karen has been watching me. 

“Jackie,” she says, using a nickname that only she’s allowed to use. Her voice is soft and sounds like it’s been trodden on. I don’t like hearing her like this. She’s usually so chipper. When she blinks, tears slip down her cheeks without sound. I follow their path and see it come to an end on the khaki material stretched over her knees. Splotches show the evidence that they were there. “How’s April? I mean, how is she really?” 

I rub my eyes, mostly to try and prevent the tears from coming. I know if I start crying, it’ll only make everyone else’s state worse - if possible. “Not good,” I say truthfully. “Um… yeah. Not very good.” 

Karen leans forward and buries her face in one hand. She doesn’t make a lot of noise as she cries, but her quivering shoulders let me know that’s what she’s doing. Joe doesn’t move to console her. Instead, he stares at the carpet with wide, vacant eyes. Audrey presses her face into Noah’s neck and weeps, and his arm tightens on her. All I can do is watch it happen, feeling like an outsider, although I’m very much included in their grief. 

I have a feeling that’s what grief does to people - it turns them to islands. We all had a different relationship with Anna. We’re all grieving a different version of her. That’s how life works. And death, too, I guess. 

“Is she…” Karen begins, but the words snag in her throat. “She’s not… she’s not doing that awful thing again, is she?” 

It takes me a moment to understand what she means by ‘that awful thing.’ But it eventually dawns on me. She never liked to say it straight-out, even while it was happening. 

She wants to know if April is cutting again. I want to open my mouth and refute the thought instantly, but find myself wondering if I’m all that sure. Maybe she is. And if she’s not already doing it, she’s probably tempted. 

...

> **2013 - AGE 15**

“The next time Audrey calls me Tapeworm to get her stupid slut friends to laugh, I’m gonna do something,” April says, throwing her backpack down with force. We just got home from school - it’s the beginning of our sophomore year. 

“What will you do?” I ask, placing my backpack next to hers. 

She looks at me quickly before walking towards the stairs, leading the way up to her room. I’m hungry, but I don’t say anything. Even though I’m here all the time, it still isn’t my house and I don’t feel comfortable going to the snack cupboard alone. Even though Karen has told me plenty of times that I’m welcome to anything inside it. She always calls me her ‘growing boy.’ I pretend not to like it, but I kind of do. My own mom never says that kind of stuff to me. 

Once inside her room, April throws herself on the bed. “I don’t know,” she answers, sighing. “Probably nothing. Like always. It’ll just blow up in my face. She’s such a bitch.” She sits up, picking at her nails. “I hate her.” 

“I could say something,” I offer. 

“No, don’t!” she says, eyes wide. “That’ll just make things worse.” 

“Why don’t you tell your mom?” I ask. 

“I’ve tried,” she says, and I notice her forehead is sweating. Probably because it’s late September - still in the upper 80s - and she’s wearing a hoodie and jeans. “But no one ever takes my side.” 

“I do,” I say. “All the time.”

“I know,” she says, meeting my eyes. “I didn’t mean you. Or Banana. It’s just like… I don’t know how Audrey has them wrapped around her finger. It makes me wanna barf.” 

She wipes her forehead as hair sticks to the perspiration there. “Are you hot?” I ask. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“You should change. You’re all sweaty.” 

“Wow, thanks.”

I wonder if it’s because she’s not ready for me to see her with less clothes on. Me and April have kissed, touched each other a little over the clothes, but we haven’t gone further than that. I debate saying that I’ll look away if she wants to change, but that’s awkward. She’s still sweating, though, and she looks so uncomfortable. “Here,” I say, leaning forward. In a flash, I roll up the sleeves of her sweatshirt and I’m shocked once I do. Lining her wrists are numerous straight lines - cuts. Some raw and red, some rusty, and some completely scabbed over and black. “What are…” 

“Jackson, stop!” she shrieks, jumping up from the bed. Manically, she forces the sleeves back down. “Don’t! Don’t do that!” 

“April,” I say, wide-eyed. My mouth has gone completely dry. 

“Stop,” she says, turning her back. “Just don’t. Don’t. Why would you do that?” Her shoulders hunch and she sinks to the floor, curling into a tiny ball. She rocks back and forth on her heels, breathing shallow and quick. 

“April…” I say her name again, this time gentler. I don’t want to spook her, even though I’m pretty spooked myself. I just want to know what’s wrong, so I can fix it. 

“What?” she says. She tries to snap the word, but it comes out watery and wet. 

“Did you…” I can’t finish the sentence. I’ve heard about cutting before, in books and briefly in health class. Some TV shows, too. But it’s always the goth kids who do it because they think it’s hardcore, or something. I’ve always thought the kids who wear all black did it to make themselves look badass. April wears Hollister and dances jazz on the weekends. She doesn’t fit the bill; I can’t wrap my mind around what I just saw. “Have you been…” 

“Just spit it out,” she says, turning around. She tries to meet my eyes and fails. Her sweatshirt sleeves are pulled down so far now that she’s bundled up her hands. 

I don’t speak because I don’t know what I should say. She’s like a raw nerve, and I’m afraid to touch her - figuratively and literally. 

She sighs, having run out of patience. “I cut myself sometimes,” she says. “Okay? That’s it. That’s literally all. It doesn’t have to be a big thing.” 

“Well…” I say, eyebrows furrowing. 

“It doesn’t,” she insists. 

“Why?” 

She huffs. “Because it just doesn’t.” 

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean… why do you do it?” 

She stares at me for a long beat, just blinking. “It makes me feel better,” she says, shrugging. Her eyes dart away to focus on the carpet. “I don’t know. Does there have to be a reason? It’s just something I do. It’s my body. I should make the choices about it.” 

“But you’re hurting it,” I say. 

“Well, it’s still mine,” she claims, lips set in a straight line. “And I decide.” 

…

> **PRESENT**

Audrey interjects before I can voice my thoughts. Before I can even organize them, really. 

“Oh my god, seriously?” she says, sitting up and pulling away from Noah. She wipes her face violently using heels of her palms. “We’re talking about April right now?” 

Karen looks to her oldest daughter, clearly disturbed. “I’m worried about her,” she states meekly. 

“For once, can something  _ not _ be about her?” Audrey snaps, and there’s plenty of venom in her voice. “Anna just died, and you’re worried about fucking April.” 

“Audrey,” Joe scolds. “Language. Please. We understand-” 

“No, you don’t,” she says vehemently. “April gets whatever the fuck April wants because she always plays the ‘poor me’ card. Where is she right now? With all of us, mourning like she should be? No! She’s in her goddamn room, hiding like she loves to do, so we’ll all wonder about her. Well, I’m tired of fucking wondering about her. My sister  _ died _ .” 

“Her sister died, too,” I say, unable to listen to her talk about April like that for any longer. “Anna was her twin.” My voice wavers, so I can’t continue. 

“Yes, we’re all fucking aware,” Audrey says maliciously. “That those two were special. They had something different. They felt each other’s pain. They finished each other’s sentences. April loved Anna best, so we can’t  _ imagine _ how much she’s hurting. Then how about she fucking show it? Maybe she would, if she were capable of thinking about anyone but herself for once in her pathetic life.” 

“Audrey Corinne,” Joe says, standing up to glower at his oldest. “That’s enough.” 

“I’m right,” she says, chin trembling. “You all know I am” She grits her teeth, which makes her cheeks bulge. “The wrong twin died.”

“Leave!” Karen says, standing alongside her husband. “I want you out.”

“Mom,” Audrey says, clearly shocked. 

I want to disappear into the back of my chair. I’m incensed, beyond angry that Audrey would say something so foul, but I don’t belong here anymore. I want to get away, but there’s no leaving.

“Go,” Karen says. “I can’t hear you say those things and fight with… not now. You need to find a place to stay for tonight. You can come back tomorrow, when everyone has cooled off.” 

Audrey is crying now, too hard to respond. I doubt she would have, anyway. Noah has stayed completely silent as he sits beside her, but stands as she does. After they leave the room, I’m the only one still sitting until Karen collapses again into the armchair. 

The front door slams shut and as if on cue, Karen doubles over and sobs uncontrollably into her hands. Joe sits beside his wife, wraps his arm around her, and pulls her close. I watch them for only a moment, this picture of grief personified, before I give them the privacy they deserve. 

Silently, I make my way to the bedroom where I know I’ll find April. I’m not sure if she’s awake, but I try to make as little noise as possible, just in case she isn’t. I change into pajamas, though it’s barely 7 now, and crawl into bed beside her. I lie flat on my back without touching her, staring at the ceiling while trying to digest everything. 

A few minutes later, April rolls over. Her pattern of breathing lets me know she isn’t asleep and hasn’t been this whole time, so I wet my lips and say, “Your mom is worried about you.” 

She doesn’t respond for so long, that I resign to the fact that she probably won’t. But then, just as I close my eyes, she says, “She should be.” 

I open them with a start and whisper, “What?”

With a sigh, she rolls to face the wall, shoulders curved. “I heard everything Audrey said,” she mutters, and my gut sinks to the floor. “And she’s right.” 


End file.
